Ceremonials
by Ashlee Seddie
Summary: AU. When Freddie is chosen as the new King, he must face the worst hardships in life with his Queen. Will they be able to protect the ones they love, or will they die trying? Seddie. T for death, butt-kicking Sam, evil guards, dark dungeons, and a little torture.
1. Death of the Crown

_**This is my first AU fic. I'm going to try to update once every week – I've already got fifteen chapters written, but this is a long story, so brace yourselves.**_

_**This is like the Hunger Games in a lot of ways, and it reminds me a bit of Signal Fire, though it is not a replica of either.**_

_**It is called Ceremonials because when I first began writing, I listened to an album with the same name, and it seemed to fit. **_

_**Enjoy.**_

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"_This is the beginning of the end."_

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_Freddie's POV_

It happened on a Tuesday.

The day had been perfectly ordinary. Ordinary for us, that is.

America was much smaller, only half the size it had been in the twenty-first century, when a large civil war had broken out. The economy had been bad, the crime rate was increasing rapidly, and hardly anyone knew what they were doing. People were pinned against each other. Everything just fell apart, and then and there, democracy ended.

At least, that's what the history books said. We lived in a twisted sort of nation. The government was much like a monarchy – we had a king and a queen, but they had very little power. They were the commercial part of life, the pretty faces to give out written speeches and to promote the beauty of 'true love' and things along that line. Their marriage was arranged. They were royalty until the died, and they always died on the same day. Because one is killed. Always.

It was also like a dictatorship, in the way that the government ruled over us in such a way. We had no say, no opinion. Unfair laws were made every week. The government kept us weak, so we couldn't rebel. At one point – decades ago – I think we tried. But we were quickly overpowered, and it was nothing more than a simple paragraph in a worn-down textbook.

The times were different. Technology had regressed. Everything was covered in a layer of dust. There was no internet. There were no cars, only carriages and coaches. (We didn't have the resources for vehicles.) We had television, which was monitored and controlled. We had electricity for a portion of the day.

I was eighteen, along with my closest friends, Carly and Sam. We'd met when we were in the sixth grade. I'd been friends with Carly since the first day. Sam… grew on me.

We were sitting on the couch in Carly's apartment, just watching TV. It was March. There was a steady rain outside, the thick drops beating on the window, begging to be let in.

Carly sat on my left, and Sam sat on my right. Spencer was in the kitchen, making something that had eggs in it. Carly kept looking nervously at him, and I knew why. He had a special talent for setting things on fire.

Suddenly, the TV screen turned to static, before turning black. It emitted a high-pitched sound.

"What gives?" Sam complained, covering her ears.

The noise continued for another second or so before an image came back to the TV. A woman was on the screen; I recognized her from the national news. She had a serious look on her face, and I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"We've just gotten word that the King is dead." Carly gasped, leaning forward. The king had been royalty way before we were born.

The woman's eyes were blank, but somewhere underneath her poker face, I could see panic – sadness. I wondered if the girls noticed as well.

"He had a heart attack while walking in the garden with the Queen. She died moments later of a broken heart."

Sam snorted. "Liar."

Carly shushed her. Spencer had already come in, engrossed with the television. I exchanged glances with Sam. My eyes stayed on hers a little too long, before lowering to her lips. She didn't seem to notice my momentary distraction, only turned back to the TV.

"All men and women ages eighteen to twenty-one are required to send their forms to the government, containing all personal information."

"No. They made us watch the competition for the last one. No," Carly protested, putting her head in her hands. I felt her shiver beside me. She was scarred from watching the video of the competition for Queen. We'd been forced to watch it in school.

The government picked four men who all had the traits they desired. Then, they picked the one they like the most. No one knew what happened to the losers.

With the women, everyone knew what happened to the losers.

They picked twenty women, all with a certain quality they liked. They were put through a week of training, then they were thrown into an arena to fight to the death. The last one standing was queen.

The arena was a small place, but it could seat almost five thousand people. It was very much like what the Romans used to do thousands of years ago. The girls, called contestants, had no choice. They fought, or they (and sometimes their families) were slaughtered.

Women's rights had practically dissolved over the years. Many people found them inferior. Many people were wrong.

"There was so much blood," Carly moaned. The women's competition, unlike the men's, was televised. You weren't required to watch it, but most people did. Apparently, humans have this sort of urge to see gore, sort of like their urge to see romance, or sexual contact. I've never really understood any of this, although Sam seems to understand it perfectly.

"_It's because we're jacked up,"_ she had said.

"You don't have to watch it," I said.

"Just knowing that it's going on will be enough for me." She made a disgusted face, before her doe eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth. It was almost comical.

"What if someone we know gets chosen?" she asked.

"Please. _We're_ more likely to be picked than anyone we know," Sam said. I elbowed her. Carly's eyes grew even more frightened, and Sam realized her mistake. She leaned over me, her hand brushing my knee.

"Carly, chill out. We have a one-in-a-million chance of being chosen. Seriously. What egotistic king is gonna want a stick-figured sissy or a psychotic she-witch for a wife?"

"He doesn't get to pick!" Carly argued. She realized what Sam had called her.

"Hey! I'm not a stick! I have plenty of curves!" she cried.

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen."

They continued to go back and forth, both of them leaning over my lap to get more in each other's faces as they argued about their hair and bodies and such. I felt like saying that they'd both make perfect queens, but that would only freak Carly out, and Sam would hit me.

"Uh, guys," I finally interrupted.

"WHAT?" They both whipped around, glaring daggers at me.

"She's talking again."

They both leaned back.

"Those eligible that do not send in the required documents will be punished accordingly. The king is to be picked in one month." _And then the Queen._

She blinked, her eyes becoming even glassier as she said the next line. "Good luck." Her voice had a grave undertone. She must've been one who understood.

_Wonder how long they'll keep her._

Some people had no objection to the government – it had quite a few followers, actually. They felt it was an honor to be King or Queen, a privilege to have your life controlled and handed to you on a silver platter.

Others silently disagree. But what can we do? Fight? That was more of a joke than the love between the King and Queen.

I picked up the remote, turning the television off. We all sat in silence for a moment, just staring at the dark screen. The smell of smoke reached my nose, and I looked toward the kitchen. Something flickered.

"Spencer!" Carly cried. The fire we had failed to notice grew, and the shelf above the stove fell. Both of the girls jumped, Carly letting out a scream. My arm wrapped around Sam's stomach, pulling her away from it, as Spencer ran to extinguish the flames. Sam turned on me, her eyes icy. My arm retreated. I gave her an apologetic smile, and she nodded, giving me a once over, as if to decide if I was diseased. My heart fell a little at that, but then her eyes whispered her acceptance. I smiled.

Spencer came out of the kitchen, breathing heavily. The fire had been put out. He announced wearily that he needed to go to the market for new food. Carly, who claimed to be tired, went upstairs to relax. Sam stayed on the couch with me. She curled up against a pillow, murmuring something under her breath.

I sighed with relief. Everything was fine.

Thirty days would prove me wrong.

* * *

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	2. Naturally Vicious

_** Thanks for the reviews! If you're a little confused, this AU is a world torn between the past and the present. In the war, much of technology has been lost, and the country has backtracked instead of advanced.**_

_** In my mind, the other countries are too preoccupied, and also to cowardly, to try to change or control America. There is no democracy anywhere.**_

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"_There are lovers, there are fighters, and then there are those who just sit back and watch."_

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_Freddie's POV_

The next day, the three of us went to the Capitol building. It was very tall, and painted a bright white. The gray sky looked darker in comparison. I tried to make small talk, but neither girl wanted to speak. Carly was too busy biting off her last fingernail, and Sam was too busy grinding her teeth.

Carly was obviously freaked out – her eyes were large, glassy from lack of sleep. Her hands shook a little, and I wanted to scold Sam for offering her coffee.

Sam was completely blank. Her face was nonchalant, unworried, but I knew she was unnerved. I could feel it, just as I could her hand, if I were to reach out.

The thought gave me an idea, and I reached out to grab Carly's hand. She looked at me, and I heard the crunch of her final finger nail. She dropped her hand from her lips, smiling at me. I saw Sam looking at us from the corner of my eye, but she looked away before I could turn my head.

I hesitated, knowing the reaction I was going to get. Slowly, I extended my hand, letting it graze Sam's. She looked at me, then at the hand. She scowled.

"Don't even _think_ about it," she hissed, low enough so that only I heard it. I tried to let it roll off my back, but the rejection sent a stab of pain through me. I had been taking things more personally since our breakup, though I acted just as I had before. She seemed more vicious, and I wondered if she was just reinforcing the walls she'd let come down for a little while.

We neared the building, staring wearily at the long lines. To think, it was like this all over the country! In all four territories, men and women were standing in long lines. Somewhere in those lines, the King and Queen stood. Did they know each other, or were they miles away?

Or, were they standing right next to each other?

"Chiz! This is going to take all day!" Sam groaned. Carly seemed unaffected. I only nodded. "What did you expect? Everyone within a four year range has to sign up and be interviewed."

Sam eyed the line of girls. Some of them nervously twisted strands of hair between their fingers, while others looked excited and happy. "I can't believe some of those idiots are actually _happy_ about this. They get to waste a whole day standing in line, just for the chance to fight to the death. For the _government_!" Sam spat out the last word. She absolutely loathed the government. She hated being controlled by anyone.

"Who do you think will end up Queen?" Carly asked quietly.

Sam shrugged. "Some pretty-faced girl who's been dying for the chance to have her life controlled."

"And king?" she asked.

"No idea."

There was a pause. "You think they'll fall in love?"

Sam scoffed. "Please. They'll put on an act in front of everyone, but I bet as soon as they get back to the castle, they won't even speak to each other. You know the whole 'true love' thing with the king and queen is bullshit."

"It could happen," I said, as if to give Carly hope. She liked to believe that something happy could come out of the worst situations. I liked to fuel that.

"Yeah. And pigs could fly." I glared at Sam, watching Carly's face fall a little.

We reached the building, and I was finally able to pick out bits and pieces of conversations. There were four lines – two for girls, and two for guys. We parted, getting at the back of our lines.

I sat in a red felt chair, across from a black man who looked to be in his late thirties. He had tired eyes and short hair, a blue tie around his neck. The room was small, but comfortable. I handed him my forms, and he looked them over.

I sighed, looking at the walls. It'd taken me hours to get in here, and my legs were practically sighing with relief. It felt good to sit down.

"Fredward?" he asked.

"I prefer Freddie, sir."

He flipped the page, reading over it. He looked up from the papers. "You have a 4.0?"

"Yes."

"Interesting." He continued to read, nodding his head approvingly. I eyed the camera at the top of his wall, then the name on his desk. _Ted Franklin._

He finally put my forms down, looking at me. "So, Freddie. Tell me a few things about yourself."

"Okay, well, I'm intelligent. I'm eighteen, and I'm pretty handy with technology," I said.

"Who are your parents? What do they do?"

"Well, my father's been dead for as long as I can remember. My mom's a nurse at the local hospital."

"How about your friends? Who do you typically hang out with?"

"I have two really close friends – they're complete opposites, so I don't really have a particular stereotypical group I hang out with."

"Tell me about them," he said.

"Well, they're both girls. One is very kind, and reasonably smart. The other is… well, she's hard to describe. Vicious would work, I guess. She's also very aggressive. But she's fun to be around."

He nodded, taking this in. He jotted down a few of these things.

"Are you easy to get along with?" he asked.

"I would say so."

"Are you very rebellious?"

"I'm not much of a rule breaker. That's more of my friend's style."

"Are you currently in a relationship? Engaged? Married?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No. I'm single."

"Hmm," he said, looking over me, as if thinking of something.

"Have you ever –?"

Suddenly, his question was cut off by a scream. There was a lot of banging around outside, in the huge lobby. I heard something that sounded like a cross between a snarl and a yell.

"What in the world?" the man asked, getting up from his desk. We both got up, opening the door. The entire line of men was turned around, some of them smirking, others opened mouthed.

I heard Carly's voice, "Stop! Sam, stop!"

The lines parted as we pushed ourselves through, and my eyes found what everyone was staring at.

Sam was throwing punches at a girl left and right. The girl hissed nasty insults at her, poorly aiming punches at her as well. Sam got her arm around her throat, pulling back on it. The girl made choking sounds, clawing at Sam's arm. Carly's cries of protest bounced off the walls as she tried desperately to pull her off the girl, but she only agitated Sam more.

"Sam!" I cried, pushing those who didn't move out of my way. "Sam!"

The girl choked out an insult, making Sam tighten her grip.

"Sam!" I finally reached her, pulling on her arm. I grabbed her other arm, squeezing it. I pulled her away, and she released the girl, who fell to the floor, gasping. Everyone watched – not a soul breathed.

"Bitch," she said in-between gasps.

"Let me at her!" Sam screamed, trying to break out of the hold I had her in.

Carly was panting, leaning against the wall.

The girl looked up at Sam, her brown hair tangled. She clutched her eye, which was bruised. Blood dripped from her nose. "You're sick!"

"Be glad you're alive!" Sam spat.

Another girl, who was small in stature, stood beside Carly. "She's crazy," she whispered to Carly. Sam, of course, heard her. I wanted to groan.

"You'll be next, if you don't shut up!" she snarled, one of her hands breaking free. She swiped at the girl, who stumbled back.

"Will you calm down?" I asked, spinning her around to face me.

"She called me crazy!"

"Because you're acting like you are!"

Sam glared at me, breathing hard. "What did she do that was so bad?"

She pointed a finger at the girl on the ground. "That _skunkbag_ was freaking Carly out! Deliberately!"

"I wasn't that freaked out," Carly defended, not wanting to look like a coward.

Sam rolled her eyes, throwing Carly a look. "Dude, you were _shaking_."

Some of the girls helped the girl up. I picked up the name Valerie, which appeared to be the so-called skunkbag's. She muttered something about Sam.

Sam lunged at her, but I pulled her back. "Easy," I said, stern. Our eyes locked, holding just a minute to long. Her eyes seemed to change, but before I could determine if that was just imagination, she had broken away from me.

"Can we just get our interviews done with? I want to leave. Now." As if on cue, the entire line of girls moved over, letting Sam stomp to the front. She flung open the door to the office, and slammed it behind her.

Carly gave the girl beside her an apologetic look, before her eyes landed on Valerie. She gave her a disgusted look, before following Sam's lead, and marching up to the front.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I approached Valerie, who looked at me questioningly.

"Sorry about her, she's just naturally vicious."

Valerie smirked. "Must be PMSing or something."

The girls behind her snickered. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought Sam might be right – the girl seemed particularly nasty. I immediately regretted apologizing for her. I shrugged, before turning to the red-headed girl Carly had been standing beside. "My apologies to you as well."

"Meh," she said, shrugging her shoulders. I looked at the man who had given me the interview. "Can we finish the interview?"

He gave me a kind smile. "I think I've seen enough," he said. Usually, those words were meant negatively, but he seemed pleased. I shrugged, bidding him a goodbye before I walked out, ready to wait another ten minutes for the girls to get out.

I didn't know that one incident would change my future forever.

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_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	3. Soldiers & Swords

"_Time doesn't slow down or speed up, but the heart does."_

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_Freddie's POV_

I got up at six because I couldn't sleep. I'd been restless for the last few days. Everyone had.

The crowning was a day away. The four men would be announced later on in the day, and then sent to the Judgment House, a courthouse in the kingdom, located in the upper left side of the North Territory.

We'd been shown videos of the last crowning in history class. Four men went into the courthouse, and one came out.

Apparently, once they were inside, they would answer a series of questions, do some sort of debate, and then the King was picked. The chosen one was sent out, where he was crowned. Then they announced the names of the women who would fight to be Queen – to 'have the honor of marrying the King', the government official would say. They always did.

Mom was at work, leaving me alone in our quaint apartment. Carly and Sam were still asleep, I was sure. Carly wasn't conscious until eight, and the earliest time Sam willingly woke up at was around eleven thirty, and even that was on a good day.

I fruitlessly tried to get some work done, finally giving up as my mind slipped into another daydream – a recalling of the previous night's dreams. I found that y mind was too tired to do anything productive, but too restless to sleep, a situation I didn't enjoy in the least.

At exactly seven o'clock, someone knocked on my door.

I got up from the couch, making my way to the door. I wondered if it was Carly – did she need something? Maybe something had woken her up. Or maybe it was Sam, in need of food or entertainment.

I pulled the door open, my eyes doubling in size when I saw who _was_ at my door.

Two men, dressed in crimson coats, stood in front of me. On the right arm of their coats was the sign of the Royal Kingdom – two birds, one red and one silver, sitting on a post, their beaks connected. They were guards. King's men. Soldiers.

Soldiers from the government.

"Fredward Benson?" one of them asked, his voice deep and full of authority.

"Yes?" I stammered out.

"We've been sent by the government to collect you. You are the chosen one of the North Territory."

For a moment, I think my heart stopped. My vision swam, and I had to support myself by putting my hand on the doorway.

"Chosen? …this is a joke, right?" I asked. I inspected them. Both had white skin, and shaven faces. One had blonde hair, and the other was a brunette. Their eyes were the same color, that of dead squash. I wondered if they were related.

The soldiers looked at each other, then back at me, their expressions not once changing. I wondered if they were trained to do that.

"This is completely serious. Come now, we must leave. We have to get you to your quarters," the other soldier said. I saw they had swords, and I wondered if they had guns as well. I choked on the words I wanted to say, the protests I wanted to shout. They grabbed my shoulders, dragging me forward. They started to lead me away, and I was going with them, my feet dragging on the carpeted floor.

I heard the squeak of a door opening, Sam's sleepy voice floating into my ears.

"Fredwad? Why are you being so loud? It's like seven 'o clock in the morning…."

Before I could answer, she'd obviously waken up, because she let out a loud yell. "Hey! What are you doing with him? Come back!" The soldiers simply ignored her.

Suddenly, there was a large thud. The guard on my left side toppled to the ground, Sam on his back. She'd tackled him.

The blonde guard flung her off, and she stood up. The other guard let go of me, turning on her. They drew their swords, pointing them at her. She eyed them, her back against the wall.

I immediately put myself between Sam and the soldiers. They stared at us, their swords pointed at my throat. There was a palpable tension in the air.

I felt Sam's hands on my back as she cautiously peeked over my shoulder. "What the Hell is going on?" she asked.

"I've been chosen," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You're kidding…." she whispered, obvious disbelief in her voice. I wanted to meet her eyes, but if I moved, I could be skewered.

"We do not have time for your childish attempts at escape. Come with us, or we'll hurt you and the girl," one said, aiming one of the swords at her neck now. Sam became tense beside me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm coming without a fight. Just… leave her out of this."

"Freddie," said whispered, as if to tell me to take it back – that she was very much apart of this.

They looked at each other once again, before lowering their swords. I began to walk forward, but Sam pulled me back.

I looked at her a minute, my eyes telling her to let me go. I gently pulled away from her, and the men put me between them again. Their eyes sent warning signals to Sam, the blonde sneering at her nastily. She scowled.

Almost immediately, Sam attacked one of the guards – the brunette. He tried to throw her off, but her legs were wrapped around him. She put her thumb to his neck, along with her arm, pushing on the pressure point that would put him to sleep. He became disoriented, stumbling around like someone who'd been drugged. His partner tried to help him, cursing at Sam as he tugged at her clothing, her large hands leaving what would soon be bruises on her skin.

"Sam!" I yelled. Before I could reach her, the guard succeeded in pulling her off, his words dirty like the bottom of his boots. He threw her against the wall, and I swore I heard something crack. She went limp, sliding down the wall with her eyes closed.

"Sam!" I cried, rushing towards her. The other guard held me back. "Let me go!" I shouted, struggling against his grip.

The brunette caught his breath before pulling out his sword. She moaned, her eyes opening. He put the sword up to her chest, watching it rise and fall slowly as she tried to keep her breathing steady. I struggled against the guard's hold.

_Click. _"Don't move."

I was right; they did have guns on them.

She looked at me, her eyes waves of panic. I could do nothing to calm her or myself.

My eyes begged her to stay still, and when the soldier moved towards her, my mind screamed.

"Don't hurt her!"

Sam glared at me, as did the soldiers.

The soldier, with the utmost hate in his eyes, spat a few words at Sam. "Foolish woman," he said.

Sam glared at him, before saying, "Stupid soldier."

The man's nostrils flared, and I wanted nothing more than to pause time and lock Sam away somewhere safe. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even speak.

The guard took his sword and dug it into the skin on her shoulder, dragging it down to the beginning of her chest. She stared him down the whole time, her eyes burning into his. He pulled back his sword, and blood began to leak from her shirt.

"Sam!" I cried.

"Shut up!" the guard commanded, shaking me.

"Let's go," he said to his partner, who nodded. Still holding the gun to my head, they escorted me from the building, leaving Sam alone to bleed in the hallway.

* * *

I was thrown harshly into a black coach, loudly protesting all the while. I heard the door lock, and Ibeat on it wildly. I could hear the soldiers find their places next to the driver, who sat on the outside, and the _"Hiyah!"_ as the driver whipped the horses. The coach lurched forward, before it started to move faster.

The roads here were made of both concrete and stone, and it was bumpy in some places, and smooth in others. The roads from before the war were still there, but they were pretty worn down.

I looked out the small window in the back, watching my apartment building fade away. At the last moment, I saw Spencer come out, waving his arms ridiculously, as if to make us stop. Carly came behind him, her hands on Sam's shoulders. I could faintly see blood trickling down Sam's front, and I beat against the windows, calling their names.

"Carly! Sam! Spencer!" I cried. I heard the sound of the soldiers beating on the coach, one of them harshly telling me to shut up. I watched helplessly as they faded away completely, which didn't take long at the speed the horses were going.

I sank into the seat, trying to take deep breaths. How had I been chosen, when there were almost three million people in my territory? What was so great about me?

_This can't be happening._

* * *

_She was transparent, and I reached out to touch her. Her lips were parted, just so slightly, and her hand met mine. My hand passed through hers, just like it would a ghost's. I cried out, trying to wrap my arms around her, but they simply went through. I couldn't touch her._

The coach jerked to a stop, making my head knock against the wall of the coach. I groaned, sitting up. I was stiff, and my leg was numb. I wondered if we were stopping to let the horses rest, or for the soldiers to get another pack of smokes. It had been hours since I'd been dragged out of my apartment, and I had dozed from time to time, bored out of my mind.

The door to the coach swung open, and a hand reached forward, yanking me out of the coach. Suddenly, my feet were on the ground. I felt a little dizzy, and I began swaying to and fro. A sturdy hand came down on my shoulder, steadying me. The soldiers glared at me.

They took my arms and led me down a grassy path, their eyes trained forward. In the distance, I could see the palace in all its glory; it practically sparkled, the light from the setting sun hitting it just right. But it disappeared as they pushed me farther down the path, towards the mouth of a monster. The path was too narrow and bumpy for the coach.

Five minutes of shoves, insults, and threats later, we were at the end of the path. The thicket of trees opened to reveal what seemed to be a small lodge, an otherworldly glow casting from the windows. A woman, impatiently tapping her foot, stood on the porch leading into the lodge, surrounded by three men my age. I was steadily lead toward them, trying not to trip over a root or a rock or my own two feet. The woman gave a curt nod once I had joined them.

"Ah, here he is – the winner of the North Territory!" she gushed.

She had reddish brown hair that came to her shoulders, and thick black glasses. She wore a floral dress that went to her knees, a tight jacket covering her pointy chest. She had heels made of alligator on her feet, and I immediately pictured her standing in front of classroom, a ruler in her hand as she went over her strict rules. She seemed like the teacher that everyone would mumble things about, the same the braver ones would smart off to.

The other men looked toward me with disinterest, as if I was nothing more than a stain on their shirt. The woman held her hand out to me. "I'm Ms. Briggs. Nice to meet you, Mr. Benson."

"Same," I said, shaking her hand. It was slightly wrinkled, but it had a strong grip. She took her hand away, and immediately turned on the soldiers.

"You had the audacity to show up late? How dare you? Just because the King is dead does not mean you can slack off!" she hissed, wagging her finger at them. They seemed unaffected, as if this was all normal to them.

She turned her nose up, waving them away. "Off with you! We have enough guards." They nodded, turning of their heels and walking off, their swords at their sides.

"Well," she said, smoothing her dress as if she was flattening her ruffled feathers, "Come in. I must show you where you will be staying for the night."

She opened the door, and the four of us filed in behind her.

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_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	4. The Servant in Red

_**Thanks to all who reviewed, especially you, FMellark. X^)**_

_**You will be seeing many characters in this story. I know of at least five well-known ones you'll be encountering as it progresses.**_

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"_To be kind, to be honest, to be brave, and to be a gentleman, means to be a king in the eyes of a good woman."_

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The inside of the lodge was huge. The ceiling had to be at least fifty feet high, a large chandelier hanging from it. A long, leather couch sat in the middle of the living room, shaped in a circle. There was a grand fireplace on my left, made of large brown stones. A tapestry with the Kingdom's symbol hung above it. The air smelled of pine and… perfume.

"Wendy!" Ms. Brigg's called.

Suddenly, a girl appeared. She seemed to be my age. She was of average height, and had straight red hair that fell down to her shoulders. She had clear blue eyes, and thin lips. She was attractive, but the smile she gave was not. Her teeth made me think of a dog's with the way some of them were pointed.

She wore a maid's outfit that was the same crimson red as the soldiers' coats. It went to her knees, where it got wider. It was tight around her chest, and appeared to be made of stiff material. Her collar was white, as were the cuffs of her sleeves. She wore white knee socks, and red button shoes.

"Gentlemen, this is Wendy, your servant. Once one of you becomes King, she will become your permanent servant, as well as the Queen's."

She gave a curtsey. I saw the guy beside me lick his lips, and I almost wanted to shove him.

"Now, let me show you around the lodge," Ms. Brigg's said. She waved us on. The rest of the guys gave Wendy piggish looks before following Ms. Briggs into the kitchen. From there she showed us the entertainment room, the bathrooms, the small pool, and our bedrooms. Once she was finished, she led us back to the living room, where Wendy was polishing the coffee table.

Ms. Briggs turned around. "Well, that's it. Soldiers will be guarding you until it is time for the crowning. I will return for you at two o'clock sharp. Look good."

With that, she bid us goodbye, and left. I could hear her lock the door behind her.

"Wahoo!" One of the men exclaimed, throwing himself on the couch. "Finally free of her!"

I raised an eyebrow at him. He had light brown hair and green eyes, freckles covering his face. He was muscular, but not quite as muscular as me. He smirked.

"I'm Ian, from the Western territory. And you are?" he asked, looking at the three of us.

"Lance."

"Kyle."

"Freddie."

"Nice to meet ya," he said.

Kyle threw himself down on the other side of the couch. He had dark skin and a grin that went from ear to ear. "I'm from the South. And ya'll?"

"Northern," I said, before the other could speak.

"Nice."

"Hey babe, you wanna get me some food?" Ian asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"Me too," Lance said, his voice deep.

"Me three," Kyle chimed.

Wendy looked at the three of them, then at me. Her eyes were expectant, waiting for me to tell her.

"I'll get something myself. Thanks, though." She gave a quick nod, then went into the kitchen. The other guys looked at me in surprise.

"Dude! She's our servant. Why aren't you making her get you food?" Kyle asked.

I shrugged. "She's already getting the three of you food."

"That's her _job_," Ian said, looking at me as if I were stupid. I just shrugged again, getting up to see the stock in the kitchen.

Wendy already had food on the stove. The water was beginning the boil, and she was mixing up a pot of something.

I went to the fridge, looking around. I finally found the makings for a ham sandwich. Sam would've been proud.

I sighed._ Sam…_

Was she okay? Did they take her to a doctor, get her stitches? No. Sam hated doctors. But what if it got infected? What if she bled out?

_Oh God…_ I thought, leaning my head against the fridge. _Just calm down. She's fine. Probably. Maybe. Maybe not. What if she's not?_

"Are you okay?"

I turned around to see Wendy standing behind her, her eyes soft with concern.

"Just thinking," I answered quickly. I moved over, afraid I was in her way. She shrugged, grabbing a few things from the fridge before closing the door.

I got my things and began to make a sandwich, while Wendy worked her hands off preparing a delicious meal. A few minutes later, I'd finished making it, and I went to the bar to eat. I watched Wendy move back and forth from pot to pan, seasoning this and that. I chewed slowly, avoiding going back into the living room. I caught Wendy looking my way once or twice, and each time I would offer her a weary smile. She would smile back, continuing with her work. Finally, I finished the last bit of my sandwich, and washed the dish I used. Wendy had looked at me with such shock in her eyes.

I could hear bits and pieces of the conversation going on inside the living room, and as it continued, the words became more heated.

"…King…"

"The Queen will…."

"…both stupid…"

"…so tough!"

Suddenly, there was a crash and lots of shouting. I heard the distinct _pop_ of skin hitting skin, and I went to see what the commotion was about. Wendy, distracted from her cooking, followed me, her eyes curious but also filled with dread.

Kyle and Ian were wrestling on the floor. Kyle's nose was bleeding, and a bruise was starting to form on Ian's neck. Lance was yelling at them to stop, trying to pull them apart. One of them ended up tripping him so that his head hit the coffee table, and he joined in. Wendy watched all of this with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

"Hey! Stop!" I yelled. Not one of them listened, so I went over to break it up myself. I yanked Lance up by his shirt and pushed him onto the couch, where he stayed, clutching his head. Then I got between Ian and Kyle, who were still throwing punches.

"I said _stop_!" I yelled, shoving them in two opposite directions. They both stumbled back, glaring at each other with such heated intensity that I thought they both would melt. Wendy looked at me. She seemed as if she wanted to say, _"How the hell did you do that?"_

"I will be King," Ian provoked.

Kyle charged for Ian again, but I stood in the way, pushing him back.

Kyle turned around, glaring at Wendy. "Where's our food, woman? Where is it?"

"I– it's cooking," she stammered.

He strode over to her. "It should be done by now! Stupid servant!" He backhanded her, taking out his anger. I immediately shoved him aside.

"Leave her alone!" I yelled.

I stood in front of her, like I had Sam. I felt like I was back in the hallway, shielding her from the soldiers.

"And what are you going to do if I don't?" he snarled, shoving me back.

"This." My fist met his mouth, sending him backward. Before he could throw a punch at me, I hit him in the jaw again. Blood started to come out of his mouth. I hit him again. And again. He fell backward, onto the wooden floor. He shook his head, blinking. A groan escaped his mouth, and he spit out a tooth. He looked up at me with fire in his dark eyes, and for a moment he made me think of Sam.

But then again, everything made me think of Sam.

I turned to Wendy, who was on the ground. "Are you okay?" I asked, holding my hand out to help her up. "Yeah…. Sorta." She took my hand, letting me pull her up. A bright red handprint blazed on her cheek, and I wanted to hit Kyle again.

I turned to the other two. "No one touches her. Got it?" I asked.

They both exchanged glances, and I knew that the two of them together could take me. Slowly, they nodded. I looked at Kyle, who was on the ground. He glared at me, got up, and stomped up the stairs. I heard the door slam behind him.

A timer dinged, and Wendy rushed back into the kitchen. I heard the sound of pots and pans banging together, dishes and wood bumping against each other.

I could hear her panting as she called, "Your food is ready!"

Ian and Lance stood up, walking into the kitchen. I followed them, being sure they upheld their word.

Stuffed crab sat on three plates, all steaming. A bowl of soup sat on each side. My mouth watered – I'd never had crab before. But then I remembered that I'd already eaten, and that it wasn't intended for me anyway.

Ian and Lance licked their lips, pulling out their chairs and digging in. Before either of us could say anything, Ian dumped all of Kyle's food onto his plate, scarfing it down as though he hadn't eaten in years. I immediately thought that manners weren't the West's stronghold.

After they were finished, Ian went to the pool and Lance went to the game room, both giving Wendy a once over before leaving. I was tired – exhausted, actually. I offered to help Wendy, but instead she shooed me away, telling me tomorrow would be a long day. I bid her goodnight and went upstairs.

My temporary bedroom was large, and on the bed were my nightclothes. I pulled the shades, seeing the silhouettes of soldiers. The room had a cold feel, and in the corners I swore I could see something move.

I changed and slipped beneath the sheets. The bed was stiff, but it more comfortable than my own back home.

Home; where my mother was; where my friends were. What were they thinking now? Were they worried? Upset? Were they still in shock, as I was?

My mother must've had a heart attack when she was told what happened. I could see her face, her eyes becoming wilder. What did she say? Do?

And what happens to the men who don't become King? The history book never said, and it was not generally known. No one knew, actually. And the possibilities of what it could be were scarier than anything hiding in the corners.

* * *

_Sam was against the wall, blood seeping from her wound. A soldier stood in front of her, and he took his sword and slashed her – again and again, slicing her skin deeper and deeper. She cried out, her voice so scared and hurt and weak that it made me shiver a thousand times. _

_The soldier vanished, leaving Sam bleeding on the ground. She should've been dead, but she just kept pleading. She called my name, begged for me to help her. _

"_Sam!" I yelled, over and over, trying to get to her. Something held me back, just inches away from her. A red smile gleamed around her throat – on her arms – legs – face. Blood poured from her mouth, and she choked as she cried, trying to breathe. I could hear Carly crying somewhere nearby. The sound of their sobs intermingling killed me. I became more and more panicked, trying to get to Sam, trying to make the bleeding stop, to make the crying stop._

"_Sam! I'm coming!"_

"Freddie?"

"Sam!"

I sat up, breathing hard. My face was wet with tears, my body shaking. A light flicked on.

Wendy stood beside my bed, looking at me with concern. I caught my breath.

"You okay?" she asked me for the second time that night. I nodded my head, blinking back the tears.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked.

"Oh, no. I came in to thank you for earlier."

"Oh," I said, unsure of what to say. She looked at the bed. "You can sit, if you want."

I pulled my feet up, and she sat down, her legs flung over the sides of the bed. She looked at me, tilting her head to the side, pondering.

"What?" I asked. I probably looked stupid, my face still wet with tears. But those images still haunted me, and I shivered again.

"I've never met anyone like you." The words struck me, and I didn't know if she meant it kindly or not.

"No man has ever stuck up for me, or any other woman that I know. Why'd you do it? I'm just a servant."

"You shouldn't be treated that way," I muttered.

"Why are you so kind towards women? I know that how we're treated isn't fair, but you seem to be the only guy that thinks that's so."

I scratched the back of my head. "I… don't know. I was raised by my mother, and she taught me right from wrong. My closest friends are women."

"Is Sam one of them?" she asked. It caught me completely off guard.

"What?" I inspected Wendy. Her hair glimmered in the glow of the lamp.

"You yelled her name," she said, as if to remind me.

"I don't really–"

"The walls are practically sound proof. The last King made sure of it, because a wolf had kept him up all night with its howling. You don't have to worry about them." She nodded her head toward the window, where the soldier's shadow could be seen through the blinds.

I hesitated. She seemed kind enough. "Yeah. She is. Carly is my other friend."

She looked at the ceiling, murmuring to herself. "Sam and Carly. Carly and Sam. The second sounds better, I think." She didn't seem to be speaking to me, but to herself. I noticed now that she had a tiny scar on her neck, right beneath her collar.

"What are they like?" She was nosey, I noticed. Well, maybe not nosey – curious.

"Well, they're opposites. Carly is very girly, kind, and polite. She has brown eyes and brown hair, and is pale; very pale. She's very funny. Both of them are.

"Sam's very rebellious. She's a fighter. Sarcastic. She's harsh, but what she says is usually true. We hated each other when we first met, but we became friends as the days dragged on. We didn't have much choice."

"Are they pretty?" she asked. She had leaned back now, against the foot. I could almost see her drawing pictures of them in her mind.

"Yes." There was no hesitation.

"Have you ever dated one of them?" Okay. So maybe she was more nosey than curious.

"Both. I pined after Carly for years and years, and she always turned me down. But then I saved her from being hit by a carriage, and she got a crush on me. We dated for a few days before I broke up with her."

"Why? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah, but… I sorta figured out that it wasn't real. Well… someone helped."

"Sam?" she asked.

My eyebrows furrowed. "How'd you know?"

She leaned up, looking at me like Sam would, with that _"It's so obvious"_ glint. "You said she was blunt."

"I guess I did."

There was a pause, before she spoke again. "How long did you date her?"

"A few weeks. We broke up seven months ago." I was as detailed as I had been with Carly.

"Why?"

"We… thought it was wrong," I sighed. She sat up.

"But it wasn't." Once again, she took me by surprise. Wendy was so different when she actually spoke her mind, but I supposed it was hard to know a person until I spoke to them alone.

"You don't think so. I can tell," she stated. I just looked at her.

She looked around, before leaning closer. "Was she the one who got into a fight?" she whispered.

"How'd you know?" I asked once again.

She gave a mischievous grin. "I'm an excellent eavesdropper. And I can tell you with confidence that she is the reason you were picked."

"Sam? What did she do?" I was beyond interested, confused without a doubt. I leaned closer, so that her face was an inch from mine. Her eyes were the lightest blue.

"The administrator saw it. He _saw _it. He thinks you're great at solving problems – fights. If there was to be a rebellion, which is always possible, they'd want you close – to calm the flames.

"Your forms were perfect. Smart, kind. Handsome. You're the perfect King!"

I swallowed all of this, the information getting stuck in my throat a few times, causing me to choke before I finally forced it down. How could this be? All I had done was pull Sam off that Valerie chick.

"But I don't want to be King. I don't want to be controlled by the government even more than I already am. I don't want my wife chosen for me – especially one who is scarred forever by the arena."

"Oh, it won't be so bad…." she said. I gave her a disapproving look.

"Okay, it's bad. But it could be much worse. You could lose."

"What happens if I lose? If one of them is picked?" I asked. She hesitated before speaking again.

"I'm not sure if this is true, but this is what I've gathered in my time at the castle, which has been my entire life. You must swear not to tell a soul."

I swore. She took a deep breath.

"They lock the losers in a tiny dungeon underneath the Judgment House until they die. Because they lost such a prize, the government thinks they don't deserve to see daylight again. It's… sickening." She shivered.

"So either way, I probably won't ever see my friends or family again?" I asked, my heart dropping into my stomach.

"They could be at the wedding. But I doubt you'd talk to them at all. You basically put the ring and the crown on the Queen, kiss her, and leave."

I put my head in my hands, and Wendy looked at the clock on the wall. "It's late. You need your rest for tomorrow." She got up, smoothing the sheets. Wendy threw a glance at the window, hurrying to the door.

"I wish you luck, Freddie," she said.

"Same to you, Wendy. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

With that, she closed the door, leaving me alone in the unfamiliar room.

* * *

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	5. To Lie or Not to Lie

_**Thank you all for the reviews!**_

_**BetterThanGold & invincible-soul - You guys made me smile. :^)**_

_**irishfan62 - Wendy is a VERY important character in this story. You'll be seeing a lot of her!**_

* * *

"_Truth. There is nothing deadlier."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

"Freddie! You must wake up! You're leaving in two hours!"

I jolted awake, though I had really never slept. I merely dozed, restless. I could've blamed it on my unfamiliar surroundings, but I would've been denying the truth. I was afraid of having more nightmares.

Wendy opened the door, dressed in a uniform identical to the one she'd worn the previous day. I wondered if she'd showered, because her hair appeared to be wet.

"You're supposed to wear this," she said, giving me an armful of clothes. I yawned, blinking.

The clothes were normal enough, but nicer than a lot of things I owned. The shirt was dark red, and it buttoned up. Each button was silver, and weighed more than I expected. The pants were made of a thick material, but they weren't jeans. They were the color of coal.

"Everything else you need is in the bathroom," she said, and she led me into the hall. I'd been up for all of one minute, and my heart was already racing. Nervousness made me jittery, and my eye twitched.

"Dress quickly! You still have to eat breakfast!" she called as I shut the bathroom door.

* * *

When I finally made it down stairs, the others were ready. Wendy had a makeup brush and was applying what seemed to be foundation to Ian's neck, trying to cover up the bruises from last night. She leaned back, inspecting her work.

"There. No one will notice," she said. He grunted, dismissing her. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. She ushered me into the kitchen, where Lance was finishing up his breakfast. An ivory plate sat next to his, a large omelet on it. She gestured toward it, and I thanked her quickly before scarfing down the breakfast. I checked the clock on the wall – it was almost ten.

I went back into the living room as Wendy rushed to clean the dishes. The rest of us waited there. I noticed Kyle glaring at me, and I returned it. Before any words could be spoken, there was a knock on the door. We knew we didn't have to open it.

Ms. Briggs pranced in, her appearance the same as yesterday, with the exception of a little more blush on her cheeks. Four sets of guards stood behind her, their faces cold and hard. I recognized the two that had been assigned to me. My eyes darkened, thinking of Sam.

"Hello, men," she greeted. "Ready?"

_No,_ I wanted to say. _I am not ready. I am not ready to be locked in a dungeon for the rest of my life, or to compete with these men for a title I do not want. I'm not ready at all._

We all nodded numbly, contrary to any of our thoughts or feelings. Kyle and Ian both looked at each other, determination in their eyes. I sighed.

I heard the light tapping of Wendy's footsteps, and turned to look at her. She offered me a smile, one mixed with pity and excitement. She mouthed, "Good luck" to me. I smiled, but was quickly brought out of the distraction by someone gripping my shoulders. The soldiers were at my side, yet again. A bitter taste found its way into my mouth.

The soldiers began to move us forward like we were cattle – slaves. Really, we were; to them, anyway.

I looked back for a moment, at the lodge. Wendy waved to me, stopping abruptly when Ms. Briggs glared at her. I looked forward once again when we began to walk down the path – the same one that would lead me to my doom.

* * *

The building was five times as large as the Capitol Building – the Judgment House. It was intimidating, towering over me. It was the color of the soldiers' coats – blood red, as if it was alive and bleeding.

_Like Sam,_ I thought, cringing at the memory.

Soldiers surrounded the place, blocking the eager crowd of reporters and citizens. I heard one of them shout a threat at someone who'd ventured too close. The person – a woman who looked as though she was insane – jumped back, hissing at the guard.

Questions were being shouted at me, and I wanted nothing more than to cover my ears. The guards stood on both sides of me, leading me up the stairs. They made me turn so the crowd could get a good look at my face. Cameras blinded me, and I blinked, colors dotting my vision. Above the noise, I could hear someone telling the people back home who I was.

"_Our Northern chosen one is Fredward Benson, called 'Freddie' by his equals. Aged eighteen, he is the son of George and Marissa Benson. Although he was chosen for his skills, intelligence, and attractiveness, it was an unexpected event that ultimately made him the winner of the Northern Territory. _

"_It is said that he handled a fight between some women, settling things fairly in very little time. He seems to have a way with people, and this could be why the government wants him for King…."_

Why did I have to be peacemaker?

"Get to moving," the blonde soldier said, pushing me forward. We turned, the two guards at the entrance opening the large set of doors to let us in.

The doors opened to a hallway. It was wide, and had tile floors that sparkled and gleamed. Paintings of past kings and queens decorated the walls.

I was pushed again, and I stumbled forward. A door was at the end of the hall, its golden handle gleaming underneath the lights. We approached it, and the brown-headed soldier opened the door.

"Whoa…."

The room was huge – the walls were wood paneled, made of dark mahogany. Four large tapestries, all larger than me in size, hung on the walls, the birds' eyes gleaming in the light of the courtroom. Real rubies and diamonds were sewn into the fabric.

Five judges, known as 'The Council', were perched high above me, on podiums that were several feet high. I knew their names – they were in the history books. The first, with an overly large nose and dark black hair, was Funel Grape. The second and third, both with curly white hair and eyes the color of a murky pond, were Durke and Donald Valve. They were brothers, both equally conceded and intelligent. The fourth was Garret Intwine. And the fifth was Samson Norris, known for his rudeness and wealth. They would be the ones to determine my future.

The others were already seated in the center of the floor, all sitting in wooden chairs. They were hooked up to machines that I automatically recognized as polygraphs. We'd been taught how they worked in school. They were only slightly different from how they were in the past. If they detected that someone was lying, they would let out an obnoxious buzz. If the person was honest, they let out a pleasant ding.

The soldiers pushed me toward the last chair, and I took my seat. Immediately, a servant came into the room and began to hook me up as well. Between the once-overs from the judges and the stares from my competition, I felt like a lab rat.

Rats tend to die in situations like these.

The servant hurried off, and the guards stood at the walls, watching us with cold stares. Finally, one of the judges spoke. "Hello, young men," Durke said. "We, if you do not know, are the council. We decide, based on your answers, who will become King."

"Also, if you did not know," Donald said, speaking up, "We are going to ask you questions – important questions. We'll give you situations, problems, and ask how you would solve them. We'll also ask you about your past."

"The polygraphs will let us know if any of you answer untruthfully," said Funel.

"We will address who we are asking. There will be no interruptions. We may ask you to debate," Samson informed.

"And finally, once we are finished, you will all go to a room while we decide who is fit to be king. Once we have decided, each of you will be brought to a special place. One of you will be brought to the steps, where you will be crowned for all to see. The others… you will find out when you get there." At this, a shiver ran down my spine. The others seemed unaffected.

Ignorance is bliss, they say.

"We shall begin," Garrett said. "This question is addressed to all of you. Why do you want to be King?"

Ian answered first. "The honor, of course. As King, a man receives a lot of glory and is very important. And being able to serve the government is a true pleasure."

I raised my eyebrows. The machine dinged, making Ian and the judges smile.

The others answered, and then it was my turn.

I tried to think of something quickly, something that was truthful. I imagined all the servants were like Wendy, and responded.

"I believe the people in the kingdom are pleasant, so to be around them constantly would be a joy."

They nodded, and Samson wrote something down on the paper in front of him.

"How would you treat the Queen?" Garrett asked.

"With love. As the lovebirds of the nation, I would think that is required," Kyle answered.

A loud buzzing sound slashed through the air, and I wanted to cover my ears.

Kyle frowned. Ian smirked.

"I would treat her with affection," said Lance. His polygraph dinged.

"I would treat her like royalty." Ian's machine emitted a sound similar to Kyle's, making me grit my teeth.

The judges' eyes turned upon me. Not at all anxious to hear the buzz, or to be dragged down to a dungeon when it was all over, I answered as truthfully as I could.

"I'd treat her with respect; as an equal."

I relaxed as my machine dinged. The judges exchanged glances, as though I had given an odd answer.

They asked us all a few more questions before focusing on us individually. They drilled my competition, leaving Ian drenched in sweat, and Lance looking particularly frightened. In the hour it took, I learned a lot about the others. Ian had been a ladies man, and was a big racist. Lance thought that the government was harsh with their punishments, and had originally wanted to be a school teacher. Kyle pretty much hated everything, and had been expelled from school for fighting, even though he was very bright.

Finally, it was my turn to be asked questions. They came at quickly, and spawned into different questions.

"Is there anything you think is wrong about the world today?"

"Yes – the way women are treated."

"You think they should be treated better?"

"Yes."

Another question was asked, this time by Garrett. "How do you feel about the guards?"

"I don't like them," I answered honestly, my expression darkening.

"Why is that?"

"They hurt my friend."

I could almost feel the set of guards burning holes in the back of my head, but I didn't turn around. If they wanted honest answers, they were going to get them.

"Are you protective of those you love?"

"Extremely."

"What didn't you stop your friend from getting hurt?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Because I had a gun held to my head."

Funel looked down at his papers. "Your father died when you were younger. How do you deal with death?"

I stiffened at the mention of my dad. "I… I really don't know. I vaguely remember his death. I haven't had anyone else really close to me die, so I'm not sure."

He looked at them again. "You saved your friend from being run over by a carriage, even though you ended up having multiple injuries as a result."

"That is true."

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"She's my friend," I said. _Ding._

"Could it have also been because you were in love with her?"

My eyes widened, shocked. I saw some of the other men exchanging glances. They had asked them really personal questions as well. Usually, more followed the first.

"That was part of it. But I would've done the same for my other friends." _Ding._

"Are you in love now?" Durke asked.

I hesitated before answering. "No."

_BUUUZZZZZ!_

I winced at the sound. The judges gave skeptical looks, all glancing at each other. I looked down.

They continued to drill me, asking me questions that made me want to scratch the back of my neck with awkwardness and spit at them with hatred.

"Now, we will have you tell us why you deserve to be King." The servant came in again and unhooked us from our polygraphs. This relieved me.

"I should be King because I'm a great leader. I can woo the Queen, and I can woo the nation."

"You could also come off as a conceded jerk," Kyle spat.

"You shouldn't pick him because he has an awful temper, and if the government angered him, he'd betray it in a heartbeat," Ian said, smashing Kyle.

"I'd be a better King than any of you! I could empower the people!"

"You could also lead a rebellion," Lance pointed out.

Kyle's face began to turn red. "If the Queen got out of place, I could control her!"

"You'd beat her to death first," I said.

"Oh, like you're better. You're in love with someone else!" Ian cried, pointing his finger at me.

"So what?" I snarled. "At least I'd treat her like a Queen! I bet you'd order her around like you do your servants!"

"You seemed pretty cozy with our servant last night," Lance yelled. I turned to look at him, all of us standing now. The judges watched us as they would a TV drama.

"Yeah, I saw it. Heard you talking through the door. I even know the name of the girl you 'love'."

My hands balled into fists. "What's funny is, I don't understand why you'd have a woman in your room if you were in love. So tell me, are you a ladies man? A cheater? Would you have an affair if you were King, and embarrass the whole government?"

He had been the one I liked, out of the three of them. It's always the quiet ones that get you.

I walked to him, my fists clenched. I talked so low that the judges had to lean forward to hear me.

"She came in to thank me, because _he_," I pointed to Kyle, "_hit her_, and _I_ protected her. I confided in her. And even if I am in love, it doesn't matter, because I'll never see her again.

"And who are you to tell me I would be a bad King? If you have nothing better to do than eavesdrop on others' conversations in the night? How could the government trust you, hmm? You're the quiet one. They'd never see it coming. You'd betray them – sell them out. Start a rebellion. You would be a terrible King."

"That is enough," Funel said, banging a gavel on his podium. "Guards, take them to the room. We will inform you when we have made our decision."

And the next thing I knew, I was being led by the soldiers into a room made of concrete. They shoved me into the room with such force that my head knocked the floor, scraping my forehead.

I knew what that was for.

We sat on wooden benches, two guards with dark skin staring us down. We glared at each other, and I could feel Lance's blue eyes on me. He shouldn't have taken the 'in love' jab. It wasn't as if I could help it, for Christ Sakes!

I looked at the walls – there wasn't a window in sight. There was only a tattered tapestry, bearing the Kingdom's symbol.

_Those poor birds,_ I thought.

What would happen next, if I was sent to the dungeon? I'd never anyone I loved again. What happened when I didn't come out? When they watched Ian or Lance or Kyle step outside the doors?

I didn't even want to think about it.

* * *

Half an hour later, the guards came back in. All four of us tensed. My set of soldiers grabbed me, taking me into the hall with the others. Darkness swallowed us, and I realized the lights were off. I was pushed along, something I was getting really tired of. I could hear my heart thudding in my chest, trying to think happy thoughts as we walked.

_Come on, Freddie. Think. _

_Spencer's sculptures. T-bo's smoothies. Mom when she's not freaking out about something. Carly's laugh. Sam's kiss…._

Suddenly, we reached a door. One of the soldiers pulled me back just in time, so I didn't run into it. I heard the click of the door opening, and I braced myself for what was to come.

I held my breath, closed my eyes, and walked through the door.

* * *

_Reviews make me happy!_

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	6. Worse By the Minute

_**Oh my gosh, thanks for all the reviews! I was very happy with them!**_

_**AND OHMYFUCKINGGOD DID YOU SEE iPEAR STORE? DID YOU SEE THE SEDDIE PERFECTION? "WE DATED FOR A WHILE. HE'S STILL IN LOVE WITH ME. IT'S KINDA SAD."**_

_**I JUST CAN'T.**_

* * *

"_Everything shines, but it means nothing to me."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

I opened my eyes and was momentarily blinded. My eyes squinted, hurting from the afternoon sun. I realized.

Trumpets blared, creating a fanfare. There were lots of cheers and whistles, and my eyes finally adjusted to the light. I was standing on the steps of the Judgment House.

Everything was so clear. The lights in the building had been so dim, and everything here was so… bright. How had I not noticed before?

"Fredward Benson." I almost jumped. Beside me was a man I almost did not recognize. I'd never met him – no. But I'd seen him on TV. His name was Henry. Henry Howard. He was a very important person – the speaker of the government. He was constantly on TV, giving new laws and proclamations. He often spoke of those the government had punished for whatever crime. He was known for being close to the former King, and he often dropped in on the King – to check on him. His partner was Ms. Briggs, though she was never on television.

"Your new King!" he announced. The crowd went wild, all cheering and clapping and screaming. Camera flashes blinded me once again, and I blinked.

And in a moment's notice, there was a crown on my head, weighing more than I had expected. Mr. Howard whispered, "Smile for the cameras." And I smiled bigger than I ever had before. It was my fakest smile, but really, what did that matter? I wasn't in a dark dungeon. I… I was _King._

"Freddie!"

I heard her voice, and my ears perked up. I searched the crowd, her name on the tip of my tongue. But I saw no one I knew, just a crowd of strangers, all jumping and cheering like they were at a concert. It was only my imagination.

I could hear the excitement in the reporters' voices as they begin to give my back story. Every detail of my night at the lodge would be in every paper in the nation, along with the reasons I was picked. They wouldn't reveal some things about me – everything that happened in the Judgment House would remain a secret. But most of my life would be printed and published for everyone to see. From then on, my privacy was at a minimum. From then on, my life was controlled, someone pushing all the buttons and pulling all the strings. Any sort of freedom I'd ever had was out the door. Forever.

Mr. Howard held the microphone up to my mouth. "It's an honor to be King," I said. The crowd broke into another fit of applause.

"As you all know, the competitors for Queen have already been chosen. Soldiers are bringing them to the palace at this very moment. Watch the feast tonight and the national news to learn more about your King and soon-to-be Queen!" Mr. Howard cried. The clapping didn't die down, but instead went on, building into a roar that made my head hurt.

A red carpet had been laid out, and it went all the way to the Royal Carriage. It was silver, and had red trimmings. It had three windows on each side, excluding the back. I could see the leather seats inside. A team of black horses were at the front of it, raising their heads, only slightly bothered by the noise.

The driver opened the door, gesturing to me. He wore white gloves and a black uniform. He had a kind smile and happy eyes, as if he was truly enjoying all of this.

I walked to the carriage, hesitating before sliding onto one of the seats. The driver closed the door. The soldiers marched down the carpet, finding their way into the rear seat. I was happy I couldn't see them once they had taken their places.

The coach lurched, and I heard more cheers as the horses began to move forward.

* * *

The palace was at the very top left corner of the country, in a place where the city Seattle once stood. The Kingdom itself, which included the palace and the surrounding cities of wealthy and important people, took up the majority of the Northern Territory.

The palace was made of stone, with windows that shone in the sun. Red flowers bloomed around the walls of the castle and around the steel gate. The grass was cut to perfection, the greenest color I'd ever seen. It had large front doors, standing sixty feet tall. I was awestruck.

"Hello, your majesty," Ms. Briggs greeted me, once I was finally inside the palace walls. The room it opened to was even larger than the courtroom. The walls were light gray, intricate designs on the wallpaper. Paintings of past kings and queens decorated the walls, and I knew that my face would be up there soon – along with the unlucky girl who won the position of Queen.

"Hello."

She smiled, like she was happy to be accompanying someone with such a high position. "I will be showing you around the palace. Come. We have much to see." She began to walk towards one of the ivory doors, and I followed.

"Now the palace is very large, so I won't be able to show you every room. You'll have to do most of your exploring later on – soon, actually, because you will be expected to show the Queen around, once she is chosen."

I gulped. I was already nervous about her. I would be married to someone I'd never met. We'd be just two people thrown together, forced to cope with a situation neither of us wanted to be in. She'd be scarred from the arena – just another person hurt by the government.

"Okay," I said, my voice small.

She showed me the most important rooms – the ballroom, the dining room, the parlor, and the servants' quarters.

I panted as we reached a new door, the one with a shiny gold handle. We had just gone up a large staircase, and it had winded me. Ms. Briggs seemed completely unaffected.

"This is the Royal Bedroom," she said, pointing to the door which bore the Kingdom's symbol. It was odd knowing that one of those birds – the one that was painted silver – represented me. The King.

_That's going to be hard getting used to._

"You'll be sharing it with the Queen, just as soon as your honeymoon ends."

I'd be sleeping in the same bed as a stranger. Lovely.

"This is also where I leave you. Before I do, I will tell you how tonight's going to go."

I paused, waiting for her to continue. Seeing that I was paying attention, she did.

"At exactly five o'clock, a team of makeup artists and servants will come to your room and prepare you for the feast. It will be held in the ballroom. At exactly six, the guests will begin to arrive. At seven, you will be sitting on your throne, watching as the contestants take their seats. After a toasting, everyone will feast, and afterward, you will dance with each contestant. Remember not to eat _too _much, or you'll be sick. Also remember that your future wife will be among the women, so make a good impression."

I nodded numbly.

"I expect you to be in the room at the appropriate time. Guards will be watching you… for your safety, of course." I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what she was saying. They would be watching incase I tried to make a break for it.

"I will be."

"I expect no less."

"Goodbye." She did what I could only guess was a curtsy, and walked away. Once I could no longer hear her footsteps, I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. How was I King? Yesterday I had been just normal 'ole Freddie, but now… I was _royalty._

_The silver bird._

My heart began to ache, along with my head. What I really needed was a nap.

I went into the bedroom, which was much larger than I had anticipated. A servant was bent over, dusting the sculpture. She turned her head when she heard the door close. Her eyes lit up.

"Freddie!" Wendy cried, running to hug me. She practically jumped into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck. "You're King! Oh my God – you're King!" She bounced happily, pulling back to look at me. I grinned at her, finding a little peace in the fact that _someone_ was happy with this situation.

"You know I'm your personal servant now, right?" she asked, still smiling. I nodded. Suddenly, she let go of me, hurrying over to the window. She peered out, her eyes searching every inch of land she could find. She stepped back, and pulled the curtains to.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The press tend to spy. If they were to catch a picture of me hugging you, well… it could be interpreted various ways. Things like this have happened before, and the less the public knows, the better. There have been uproars over things such as this."

_Another reason to be paranoid._

"Not very comforting, I know," she said. I sighed, wanting to change the subject.

"Wendy… can you tell me about what's going to happen next? Ms. Briggs didn't give me much detail."

"Can I sit?" she asked, pointing to the king bed. I nodded, and she sat, smoothing out her uniform. I sat down next to her, feeling the softness of the bed beneath my palms.

"The feast, as you already know, is going to begin at seven. Almost everyone will be there – the press, some government officials, the snooty upperclassmen. It'll be filmed, so the nation can watch.

"It's very important, because it's the time when everyone starts placing their bets. Who will be Queen, if you'll fall in love, who will be the first die in the arena – those sort of things. People will judge your chemistry with the women while you dance with them – which will take a couple of hours. You'll be exhausted by the time it's over with."

"Oh." My voice was small. I didn't even know _how_ to dance. I had only done it once or twice, and those had been slow dances, which involved very little movement on my part. I was going to look like a fool.

"Where will you be while the feast is going on?"

"I'll be right by your side – at least, as long as you're on the throne. I'll accompany you most places – and when the Queen is chosen, I'll do the same for her."

I nodded, thinking it over in my mind. "Do they want you to spy on me?"

"Huh?"

"Do they want you to spy on me – the government?" I asked again.

"Oh, no," she said. "If they want to spy on you, they'll simply plant cameras and bugs in your room, or get the other maids to do it. My allegiance is to you, and they know that."

"I see." I pulled uncomfortably at my collar. She leaned closer, inspecting my face through squinted eyes. I immediately felt subconscious.

"Your eyes are a little dark underneath. Maybe you should get some rest before the feast."

Now that she'd brought it up, I remembered how tired I was. Sleep sounded wonderful. I nodded, my eyelids almost begging to close.

She got up, motioning for me to lie down. I had no protests, and felt relief flood me as my head hit the pillow.

"Have a nice nap," she said, curtseying before she left.

* * *

"My King! My King!"

I jumped out of my dream, my eyes shooting open. Someone was pounding on the door. Wendy must've locked it.

Wearily, I got up, opening the door for the loud woman. She looked like a fretful mother, the way she wrung her hands and looked everywhere but me. It seemed I intimidated her.

"Yes?"

"We must get started immediately! The guests arrive in an hour." She had a whole group of people crowded behind her, and I stepped inside, allowing them to pass me by.

Within minutes, I was being picked and prodded at, fussed over like some award-winning animal. By the time it was over with, my body hurt from all the poking, and I was annoyed to say the least. The woman gave me a I-really-want-to-impress-you smile, and led me to the full length mirror.

My hair was styled the same, but shined like chocolate diamonds. My outfit was black, and had threads that she told me were 'spun gold'. It was stiff, but not enough for me to be uncomfortable. I had on leathery boots, and _they _were what ached me. My feet would be sore before the night was over with.

"All you need is your crown," she said, motioning her head toward the silver crown that sat on a red pillow a few feet away.

I picked it up, inspecting it, because I hadn't had the chance before.

"Pure silver," she said, awed herself. Tiny, red jewels were encrusted into it. In the sun, it would surely blind me.

I slowly put it on my head. I disliked the way it seemed to weigh me down, a ball and chain to drag with me everywhere.

The woman looked down at a raggedy bracelet on her wrist, and announced to the rest of her crew. "It's 6:20! We beat the time!" They all clapped, patting each other on the backs. I quirked an eyebrow.

Three loud knocks made me jump. Ms. Briggs burst into the room, her hair out of place. She wore a dark green dress and alligator heels.

She curtseyed. Once she was done, she gave me a once over. The woman bit nervously at her fingernails.

"Good job, Matilda. Now all of you, out. The Royal Bedroom shall not have unworthy people in it alone."

I felt like objecting, but what could I say? I was taken aback by her obvious feeling of superiority.

Matilda bowed her head, the others following behind her as they filed out the door.

"Now," Ms. Briggs said, clapping her hands almost happily, "I shall escort you to the ballroom." She motioned me forward. I hesitatingly began to walk with her, leaving the bedroom.

We walked down stairway after stairway, hall after hall. I was going to have to show the Queen all of this? I'd probably get lost trying to find the bathroom!

"The guests have already arrived. There are many people you'll need to know – Sir and Lady Alvendart and both very important, along with Mr. Lee. You'll speak to them at other royal parties, but tonight is dedicated to the contestants."

I nodded, finding all of this unimportant.

She handed me a slip of paper, but continued to walk. I wanted to stop and read it, but I wasn't sure if the consequences for being late would be worth it.

"It's your speech. It's very short, and you can memorize it while everyone waits for the contestants. You'll read it after the speech – right before you begin to dance with them."

Finally, we reached a set of doors – large, towering doors. It seemed they all were.

Soldiers stood guard, their eyes blank. "Wendy will join you once you take your seat," Ms. Briggs told me. She nodded to the guards. They wordlessly opened the doors, and I watched every head turn around to look at me.

People in dazzling outfits sat at long tables. There had to be at least a thousand people there, all with perfect white teeth and plucked eyebrows.

The room itself was the largest I'd ever seen. It was so enormous that it could hold the people, their food, the throne, and still have a floor that was large enough to give me plenty of space to dance.

A pale woman with bright red curls stood on a small platform, close to the space reserved for dancing. A few band members picked at their instruments. Her eyes focused on me, a microphone in her hand.

Trumpets blared, announcing my arrival – not that anyone had missed it. I began to walk forward, up to the throne which sat at the front of the room, raised high to show my superiority.

The staring grated on me, making my palms sweat. Carly and Sam were good with crowds, not me. I wasn't destined to be in the limelight. I just wanted to be in a dark corner.

I finally reached the throne. It was red in color, and much more comfortable than I had originally anticipated.

Cameras flashed. I looked to my side, startled to see Wendy was already there. She stood with her hands behind her back. Her outfit was different – it was white, and seemed to constrict her. She didn't dare look at me, because that would hint that she was more than a servant. She was a friend.

Mr. Howard came to the front, a microphone in his hand. "Now that the King has been seated, our lovely contestants will be introduced. Remember, that among these fine young women is your future Queen."

Everyone clapped, smiling at one another. "First, for the Western territory. Please welcome our first contestant."

The doors opened, and a smiling girl in a silver dress stepped forth. She had black hair, and tiny eyes, and was very attractive. "Dayna Wellington," Mr. Howard announced.

She walked forward, taking the same path I had, all the way to the throne. Music played lightly in the background.

She curtsied, then took her seat at the contestants table that sat to my right.

Girl after girl came in, curtseying to me before taking their seat. Some of their smiles were genuine, but others held not a bit of sincerity. Finally, the last four were up.

The girl who came next shocked me, because I knew her – sort of. She was Valerie, the girl Sam had gotten into a fight with. She had on a silver dress (Each girl wore either red or silver), and her hair was in a braid. She grinned mischievously, curtseying before taking her seat.

The redhead that had called Sam crazy came after her. I learned her name was Missy. She took long strides, proud as she walked. Her hair curled at the ends, a ring glittering on her finger. She had her nose in the air, as if she was already the Queen, and that everyone else was below her – not worth looking at. It made me want to scowl.

Two more, and it would be over. Dread started to build in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong – very, very wrong.

Pale feet walked through the doors, the bottom of her silver dress sticking to her legs. Her hair was up in a messy bun, strands falling out of it. I stood up, my throat constricting. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

"Carlotta Shay."

* * *

_There's a link to a picture of the Kingdom's symbol my blog._

_Click it._

_And review. _

_Please?_

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	7. Never Let Me Go

_** Thanks for the reviews!**_

_**I just wanted to inform you guys that I have final exams next week, so I might not update for a little while. **_

_**And I wanted to let you know, the story will not be strictly in Freddie's POV.**_

* * *

"_One action can change the course of life forever."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

Everyone's gaze shifted to me standing up like a fool, but I didn't care. How could they do this?

"Carly," I said, so quietly that only Wendy heard me. She repeated the name to herself before realizing. She put a hand to her mouth.

I looked away from her for only a second, staring at Ms. Briggs in horror. Obviously, she had known. Her mouth was twisted into a pleased smile.

Drama. They wanted drama to keep the nation entertained, on their side.

Carly walked to the throne. Her dress seemed to be made of a thousand tiny jewels. The light hit it, reflecting tiny beams of light from her. It was the most spectacular dress that had been presented tonight. Many oohed and awed – at least, those who weren't whispering about my reaction. Valerie huffed from her table.

She reached the throne, and I could see she was holding back tears. It sent a stab of pain through me, and I wanted to yell for her to run, to forget any of this had ever happened. She smiled despite the circumstances, and curtsied – something I was beginning to despise. She took her seat next to Missy, placing her hands in her lap.

The crowd of people whispered to each other. There was still another girl, and they would save the bombshell – the big finale, for last. And the only thing that could possibly top this was….

Oh God.

I remained standing, praying under my breath that the next girl – the last – wouldn't be her. My heart was hanging by a string.

"Anyone but her," I whispered to myself, dreading the arrival of the next person who would walk through those doors.

"And finally, our last lady for the night," Mr. Howard said. I didn't breathe.

The doors, which had been closed, opened to reveal the girl. A satin dress clung to her hips, fitting the majority of her figure. The neck dipped in a V, showing her cleavage. The sleeves weren't very thick. She stepped forward.

The bombshell had arrived, a glorious present wrapped in red. Just for me. Because of me.

"Samantha Puckett," Mr. Howard said. Cameras zoomed in on her glare.

"Sam," I said, both in horror and as a correction. This time, I was heard by more than Wendy. The girls at the contestant table looked up at me, puzzled. Some of the audience did as well.

My heart broke into what felt like a million pieces, falling to the bottom of my stomach to join the dread. I saw that the crowd was beginning to realize that I knew her, their eyes opening wider. Some of them smiled, pleased.

Sam sauntered to the front, her head held high. Bright white gloves went up to her elbows, her lips painted the same color as her dress. Someone got close to take a picture – the first person bold enough to get up from their seat. She raised an eyebrow at them, finally finding her way to me. She was only a few feet away.

The crowd was transfixed – she had them under her spell. Her eyes had a special glint in them. It was as if she was trying to prove herself – as if none of this bothered her at all. Instead of curtsying, she bowed. This sent the press into a flashing frenzy, snapping as many photos as they could. Her eyes stayed on mine. She slowly straightened herself before walking to her seat, sitting down next to Carly. They exchanged glances.

"Now we shall feast!" Mr. Howard announced, breaking the spell. The crowd broke into applause, happy as food began to be passed out. A delicious aroma filled the air as every expensive piece of food was brought forth. I had a table placed in front of me, and Wendy went to get my meal. I looked towards Carly and Sam. Sam caught my stare, and lightly elbowed Carly. They both looked my way, and I was about to say something – mouth something important – but then Wendy stood in front of me, blocking them from view. She placed a plate of lobster in front of me.

"Don't eat it yet," she whispered.

Once everyone had their plates, they all raised their glasses. Mr. Howard did the toast.

"A toast to the King, the contestants, and to the government for making this all possible." The crowd gave their shouts of agreement, before taking sips of their drinks. Carly took only a small sip of hers – she wasn't a drinker. Sam downed hers in one gulp, before she dug into her food. I took a large sip of mine, and began to eat. I listened to the reporters compliment the food to their cameras, which scanned over everything – the food, the guests, the girls, and me – especially me.

I risked another glance at the girls. Sam had demolished her entire plate, and was now eating large amounts of mashed potatoes off of Carly's plate. Missy made a disgusted sound, and Sam made a sarcastic remark, her mouth full. I almost wanted to laugh, but then I heard one of the reporters.

"…very rude, but she seems to have a lot of character. The King cannot keep his eyes off of her…"

I lowered my eyes to my food. Was there any sort of punishment for staring at the contestants? Or was it encouraged?

Even if it was, I didn't want my feelings out there for everyone to judge and interpret.

* * *

Almost half an hour later, everyone was finished with their meals. The plates were being taken up, and I took this as my cue to give the speech. Wendy handed me a microphone. I stood, and the noise in the room ceased. For a moment I felt powerful.

"I am very pleased to have you all here tonight, especially my guests of honor – the lovely ladies to my right. Don't they look beautiful, ladies and gentlemen?"

The guests applauded, giving nods of their head as many of the contestants (including Carly) blushed. Sam rolled her eyes.

"As you know, I have only been King for a few hours – but it is something I had dreamed of since I was a small child. What man hasn't?"

The men all gave nods of agreement, some of them making comments to their neighbors.

"This is a dream come true, and I hope to serve you all, and my Queen, as I should."

More applause. Ms. Briggs took the microphone from me.

"At this time, the King shall dance with each contestant."

Wendy stepped aside, and I slowly rose to my feet. The black haired girl stood as well, and we met on the floor. The lights lowered slightly, to a romantic glow. The musician began to sing as the music increased its volume.

That was how it went for the next two hours. I danced with each of them, taking a break once or twice to rest and get a sip of wine. Finally, it was Carly's turn.

She met me on the floor, her feet making a light tapping sound. She curtsied and I bowed, just as I had done eighteen times before. The formal greetings were starting to wear on my nerves.

She put her hands on my shoulders, and I put mine on her waist. We stood a foot apart, not close, but not necessarily far away. The music started up again, the musician singing another song I'd never heard.

We began to dance, and she seemed to be looking anywhere but at my face. I pulled her closer, so she could be the only one who heard me. I was filled to the brim with questions, worries, concerns.

"How did it happen?" I whispered.

"…_in the smallest of gestures, in short, shallow gasps…"_

She leaned closer, putting her head on my shoulder. Her lips were next to my ear.

"We were in the crowd when you were picked. After the coach drove away, we went to catch it; Sam lead the way. The soldiers spotted us and pulled us back…"

"_But with all my education…."_

I felt her breath on my neck. She smiled, trying to deceive the audience.

"Sam tried to get past them, but they stopped her. Mr. Howard saw what was happening – and everyone else – and he recognized our faces. He got to us and stopped Sam and the soldier mid-fight. Then he told them… we were contestants."

She swallowed, and pulled her head up.

"We tried to run. Sam could've gotten away, but the soldier caught me and she tried to get him off me. She almost did, but they pulled her off… They dragged her and carried me. They made her wear the gloves because she has marks on her wrists from where the handcuffs dug into her skin."

Tears were forming in her eyes, and her smile fell away completely. I knew cameras would be zooming in, microphones turned up – if they weren't already.

I looked past her for a moment, to Sam. She was watching us, her arms crossed. She knew Carly was crying – I could tell.

"_Save face,"_ she mouthed to me.

I pulled Carly closer, whispering to her. "You can't cry. Not now."

It wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to grab her arm and Sam's and pull them out of there; take them far away from the ballroom and the prying eyes of the press. But I couldn't. I was King.

A king with no power.

She nodded, putting her head back on my shoulder. Her hair smelled of apples, and for a moment, the familiar scent calmed me.

The song ended, and we pulled away from each other. She smiled, looking at our joined hands. I gave hers a light squeeze before letting go. She took her seat.

Sam rose from her seat, walking slowly towards me. "And now, for our last dance of the night," Mr. Howard said, his voice seemingly lower. Sam joined me on the floor, and immediately I was nervous. I looked towards the spot her cut would be; it was covered by her sleeve.

The musician's lulling voice floated softly through the room, the song starting off peaceful and slow. Sam put her arms around my neck, smirking at my awkwardness. My hand rested on her hip, the other coming around to rest on her back. I realized with a start that there was no back to her dress – that my palm was not against satin, but skin. Soft, smooth, sweet-smelling skin.

Sam's skin.

"_Looking up from underneath, fractured moonlight on the sea; reflection still looks the same to me, as before I went under."_

She swayed, and I held her to me, letting her lead. She wasn't like Carly. She stared me down, her eyes the color of ice with the ferocity of fire.

The music picked up, and we began to move around the room. The lights were out now, a single spot-light on us. Her dress fanned out as we moved, her golden curls flying. I might've enjoyed myself if this had been somewhere else, and we had been alone.

What I would've done to be alone with her.

I pulled her closer once the music slowed. Millions of questions filled my mind, but I could only ask her two or three. Which ones to choose?

"How is your cut?" I whispered. Her eyes flickered, and I felt her grip on me tighten. She leaned closer.

"Don't," she whispered. "They're listening."

A camera went off somewhere in the darkness, and once again I wished we were alone.

"_Never let me go; never let me go."_

The musician hit the chorus, and we began to go around in circles, putting in a unique move every now and then. The shape of her body fit perfectly with mine, and I couldn't help but notice how she would brush against me, her moves as fluid as flowing water – natural and uninterrupted. She was grace.

And it was odd for me, because she was hardly ever graceful. She was something entirely different – neither awkward nor graceful, but strong. Proud. It showed in her walk – in the way she carried herself.

The song continued, the musician's voice lowering into a soft whisper as she sang the next few lines. I pulled Sam closer. She bent her head, closing her eyes. Her eyelashes touched the tips of her cheeks, which were rosy. Her lips were red rose petals, and I longed to kiss them. I would surely be punished then – by Sam, and by the government. I wasn't supposed to show favoritism – or was I?

I would never know, because the song ended almost as soon as it had started. The audience broke into applause, louder than they had been any time before. Sam smirked at their reaction, turning her head to look out at them. Her hands were on my chest now, and the strawberry aroma of her hair surrounded me. I inhaled.

The lights rose, the spotlight disappearing. I released her.

She looked past me for a moment, at someone at the contestant table. Her eyes flickered, a devious glint in them. She winked at whoever's gaze she held. I raised an eyebrow. What was she planning to–?

Suddenly, before I had time to think, she grabbed my shoulders – yanked me forward – and kissed me.

Shocked gasps surrounded us, the clicks of cameras joining in the chorus immediately. Sam's eyes had closed, her cheeks bright red. My mind went blank, the kiss sending waves of shock through me. It was so much like the courtyard. I didn't kiss her back. I didn't even _breathe_.

_1…2…3…._

She broke away. Three seconds. It had lasted three seconds. Yet my heart was pounding in my ears, and my hands were shaking.

Sam stared at me for a moment, but then her eyes found her earlier target. Information passed between them, and her face broke out into a grin – a mischievous, Cheshire Cat grin. She looked as though she had gotten away with a crime.

She'd done it. She'd opened a can of worms. She was insane, a complete lunatic! What reason could she have for kissing me? It was a planned thing, I could see – part of a larger plot. But how did this benefit her?

Everyone sat in a shocked silence. She bowed to me and took her seat. I was left alone on the floor, dazed and confused beyond recognition.

Mr. Howard cleared his throat, his eyes still wide. Ms. Briggs's face was as red as the tapestry above her, her eyes shooting daggers at Sam.

"W–Well," he stuttered, trying to regain the superior tone in his voice, "We sincerely hope you all had a wonderful time at our feast. Please do answer the surveys that will be out soon, and continue to watch our beautiful contestants as they train for the arena. Goodnight."

A guard stood at each end of the contestant table, and the girls all stood. What would they do to Sam?

She seemed completely at ease, walking proudly behind the first guard as they walked through the doors. Reporters took pictures of her as she passed, speaking at a furious pace to their cameras and crew.

Carly looked nervous; Missy looked unbothered; and Valerie looked as though she could've ripped Sam's throat out. The guests talked in excited tones, madly gesturing to Sam and to me.

The guests began to leave shortly after, and Ms. Briggs grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "Come with me. Now."

I followed her through a door at the front. Wendy trailed behind us.

Once we were out of the ballroom – in a hallway I didn't recognize – Ms. Briggs turned on me.

"How could you allow her to do that? Do you know how much trouble you'll be in if she isn't Queen? You showed obvious favoritism!" she hissed.

"What did you expect? Two of my closest friends are contestants! Isn't this what you wanted?" I was surprised by my reaction to her, and it seemed that she was too. Wendy raised her eyebrows. Ms. Brigg's face turned the color of tomatoes.

"Excuse me?" she asked furiously.

"They were made contestants for drama, right? That was the whole reason behind it! It's the same reason Valerie and Missy are contestants. Drama!"

"They were made contestants because their resumes fit yours. They were compatible to you, and they had qualities made for a queen!"

Wendy watched the exchange with interest. Ms. Briggs realized this, and immediately calmed. She took a deep breath.

"Please, excuse my tone, your highness," she began, "But what Samantha–"

"Sam," I corrected. Ms. Briggs took another breath, trying not to explode.

"Sam," she said, "did, well… the press is going to have a field day. Nothing like that has ever happened – contestants have always kept themselves composed. Her little stunt will pose many problems."  
"It'll bring benefits as well," Wendy said quietly. Ms. Briggs turned to her, her eyes on fire. "Did I say you could speak?" she shouted. Wendy cringed, and bent her head.

"She has a point," I said, stepping sideways so that I shielded her.

"Look, if Sam is… Queen," I said, trying not to notice how my throat constricted when I thought of that, "The press will think that she is already in love with me because of the kiss. Aren't the King and Queen supposed to be the lovebirds of the nation?"

"Of course," she scoffed, as if I'd offended her by asking.

"Then the love between the King and Queen is the most important thing. If the press can't question that, then a lot of problems have been eliminated."

She thought this over. "Alright. But there is no guarantee she will be Queen. Whoever walks out of that arena is who you'll have to love – even if the woman is not your favorite."

"I understand."

"Good. Now, off to your bedroom. It's already past midnight," she ordered. She turned on her heel and walked back into the ballroom.

I looked to Wendy. "I'll take you," she said. She began to walk down the corridor, and I followed, already deep in thought.

* * *

_Just wanted you guys to know, this is not going to be one of those stories where Carly and Sam magically start hating each other._

_(Not that I haven't been guilty of that before.)_

_Any ideas on what is going to happen? Review and tell me!_

* * *

_Sam/Freddie Song - Never Let Me Go - Florence + The Machine (not meant romantically, actually)_

_Carly/Freddie Song - All This and Heaven Too - Florence + The Machine._

* * *

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	8. Puckett's Plan

_**I found out Thursday that iCarly is going to end in a few months. I will always be a hardcore iCarly/Seddie fan, and this is really heartbreaking. This is a long story, and I hope you guys keep reading even after the show ends.**_

_**Thank you all so much for reading my stories, and to the 400 readers who favorited me as an author. It means a lot.**_

* * *

"_Sweet heroine, why must you save the day by sacrificing yourself?"_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

"Wake up."

The words pulled me from the fog of sleep almost immediately. It had taken me almost an hour to relax, to calm my mind enough for sleep to find me, and now all the time spent had been ruined.

The voice was that of the person who my dreams were centered around – the one who always made an appearance. Was I imagining it? I had to be. She was locked away somewhere, just like a princess in a tower. Or, she _should've_ been.

I opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the dark. A figure stood in front of me, silhouetted by the moonlight.

"Sam?" I asked, sitting up. I reached over, my fingers finding the lamp. The light flicked on.

Sam stood by my bed, wearing a very thin gown. Her hair fell down her back in messy curls. In one hand she had a table knife. In the other, she had some sort of wire.

"What are you doing here? How did you escape?" I stood up, looking down at her. Another question escaped my lips. "Why do you have a knife?"

"Whisper, you nub," she said in a hushed voice.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I had to talk to you. Sit down." I took a seat on the bed, and she sat beside me, setting the knife down.

"Look. I'm sorry for the heart attack I gave you at the feast. I had to distract the crowd."

"Distract them? What? Sam, what's going on? What's with the gown, and the knife? Wait, are those bruises?" I asked, pulling on her hands. Her skin had darkened around her wrists, bruises wrapping all the way around them. She snatched her hands away.

"It's nothing–"

"It's something. And… how's your cut?" I asked, seeing that it was gleaming bright red underneath her gown. She put her hand to her shoulder, almost like she wanted to hide it from me. "It's fine. I'm fine. Now shut up – this is important."

I looked down at her hands, feeling a certain anger rise in my throat. I nodded despite this.

"I knew I was going to need to talk to you one-on-one. Those stupid reporters were listening at the feast – they probably heard every word you and Carly said to each other. She should've known better than to say anything important."

"She was worried and scared," I defended.

"That's the kind of thing the press preys on," Sam snapped. There was a tense silence for a second, before she began to speak again.

"I knew I was going to have to sneak out if I wanted to see you. I figured I needed a knife and something I could pick locks with. As it turns out, those things were just in my reach."

"But you were dancing with me–"

"Carly can be quite sneaky when she wants to be." She grinned at me. A thought came hurdling at me.

"If you can escape, why don't you run away? You need to get out of here, Sam. They won't find you," I said.

"I can't."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Why not?"

"Carly. You really think she's gonna make it through the arena without me?"

"Take her with you!" I demanded. Sam clamped her hand over my mouth, looking at the door. "Will you keep it down? Do you _want_ the guards to find me here?"

I quieted. "Why can't you take her with you?" I whispered furiously.

"Carly couldn't handle it! Can you imagine her having that kind of life – always on the run? Never staying in one place for too long? She'd go crazy. And she'd most likely be our downfall." Sam sighed. "Don't you get it? She has to be Queen."

Her words hit me with an unintended force. "No," I objected. My voice was steady, but my mind was anything but. The animal inside me began to panic, and for a moment my vision was blurred. I blinked, trying to regain my composure.

"No?" she scoffed. I swallowed hard, trying to force my heart back down to my chest. I realized how unreasonably warm the room was.

"You can't. I can't let you."

"It's not your decision." She got up, ready to leave me. I felt like she was slipping through my fingers.

I grabbed her hand, and she glared at me, her eyes intense. If this had been six years ago, I would've flinched at such a look. But I knew her now. Sam had to glare – she had to be cold. If she didn't, her walls would fall in on her, and she would be weak.

She'd rather be dead than weak. That was unspoken knowledge.

"You'll die." My voice wasn't steady now. It broke, crumbling into a million pieces in front of her. My throat was hot and scratchy, and I could feel my face heating up as well.

"One of us is going to die no matter what. We both leave, we're both caught. If I leave, Carly will die in the arena. If I stay, I'll die in the arena. There's no getting around it."

"But what if you both die in the arena? You think I can handle that?" My words were catching in my mouth, cracked from the dryness of my tongue.

"Freddie," she said, making me look at her. She placed two hands on my shoulders, bringing me down to her height. My heart sped up. Was she…?

Her eyes were serious. "No matter what happens or who dies, you have to be strong. There's no way out of this. When Carly is Queen, she's going to need someone strong, because I'm not going to be her rock anymore. You have to be the strong one."

"I can't."

She shook my shoulders. "You _can_," she insisted. "You have to. You're King now."

Her eyes seemed to change once she uttered my importance. Bewilderment pulled on her eyes, enlarging them. It sucked the color from her cheeks, making her lips seem darker in comparison. She blinked, releasing her hold on me.

"I have to go."

"No!" I protested, grabbing for her hand. She's looked at me with surprise. I'd stopped her again.

"Please… don't," I whispered. When she was gone, there was no guarantee she was coming back.

"I'm safer there than I am here." My mind went into a panic, thinking of what would happen if Ms. Briggs came in here right now. Would they cart her off to the dungeon? Throw her in a lion's den?

I let her hand go, wanting to push her towards the window, but also wanting to pull her closer.

She showed no sign of weakness. "Try to wrap your head around everything. And be careful. Got it, nub?"

The name made me blink, my mind processing her sentence as a pity threat. I didn't respond for a moment. She frowned.

"Got it," I said airily. She nodded sharply, then went to the window.

"Sam." She turned, an eyebrow raised. It reminded me of the fire escape.

"Think about what I said – about running away. Please. And… be careful."

"I don't think I can do any of that," she said. I inhaled – to say something, to protest – but she was gone before I could even process my next thought.

I ran to the window, peering out into the night. She'd already disappeared into the darkness.

I stood there for the longest time, just staring out the window. Finally, I accepted that she was gone, and closed the window, shutting out the rest of the world. My feet shuffled toward the bed, my mind so tired, yet so restless. I looked toward the bed, and my eyes widened.

She'd left the knife.

* * *

_Sam's POV_

I hid in the bushes, peeking through an opening in the branches. The guards were still asleep, one propped up against a door.

I darted through the bushes, making my way to the back – where the window was. The building they had us in was small, the rooms only big enough to fit two twin beds and a table. Two girls were in each room, and I'd been graced by sharing mine with Carly.

I looked at the barred window I had unscrewed. I lightly touched it, sending the bars falling onto the bed inside. I hoisted myself up and through the tiny opening, falling onto the bed with them. The spring dug into my side painfully, but I smiled. I'd made it back without being caught.

I looked up, expecting to see Carly's brown eyes looking down on me. But the eyes weren't hers.

"Hello," the girl said, smiling at me. "Won't you fix the window? Someone might notice if you don't."

I looked towards Carly, who was mortified. She was shaking, her hand gripping the faded comforter on her twin bed.

I sat up, staring the girl down. She seemed to be my age, her eyes the same brown as Carly's. "Who are you?"

"Wendy at your service," she said, curtseying. "I'm Fr– I mean, the King's personal servant. I've also been assigned to serve you two during the week you'll be here."

"I uh–" I stuttered. Normally, I could save face, but how could I weasel my way out of this one? I had just dropped through the damn window!

She looked at my face, and then Carly's, before she fell into a fit of laughter. "Your faces!" she cried, wiping a tear from her eye. I scowled at her.

She calmed, sensing my hostility. "I'm not going to rat you out, Sam. I'm just a humble servant, after all." She grinned.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, standing up. Carly rose from her bed as well, standing beside me. She crossed her arms, frowning.

"Oh, the King has spoken of you before – I learned both of your names on his first night here."

"And you're not going to squeal on me?" I asked, taking a menacing step forward.

"Psh, no. That would be a dumb thing to do." Her voice had changed from a formal, even tone to that of a teenager's.

"How so?" Carly asked. Wendy's eyes sparkled.

"Well, for one thing, it'd upset the King. I like him pretty well, and it's not smart to upset anyone in authority _anyway_," she said. "And you're both pretty pleasant in comparison to the snobs next door. Have you met the Missy chick?" She made a face. I chuckled. For someone I'd met a few minutes ago, she seemed alright. I tried not to be deceived – I still didn't trust the people around here. Though, this girl had something about her I liked, something that made me feel comfortable.

She looked down at my feet. "Your legs are covered in mud. Let me go get something to wash them off with; you don't need the guards seeing that. And we have to fix the window," she said. I nodded, watching her as she left. I heard the lock click once the door was closed.

"What do you think?" I asked Carly.

"She seemed nice enough. What did you and Freddie talk about?"

I sighed. She wasn't going to like what I had to say. "Sit down, and I'll tell you my plan."

* * *

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	9. Resistance

_**Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for the long wait...**_

_**Oh, many good predictions! I'll never reveal who's right... if anyone's right...**_

_**FYI: The arena isn't like THG arena. It's more gladiator style, and won't last long.**_

* * *

"_I'll get you for this. Just you wait."_

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_Sam's POV_

"Carly, Sam, time to get up! Training starts in an hour!"

Wendy's voice roused me from my sleep, and I opened my eyes. Carly was already sitting up on her bed, running her pale fingers through her hair. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and it sent a pang of guilt through me. She'd begged – pleaded with me to just go, to leave without her. She knew she'd jeopardize our safety by going with me, and she insisted she'd be fine in the arena alone. But I knew better.

I wasn't trying to be noble. My choices were limited. Die now, in the arena, or later, on the run with Carly. I picked the one that kept Carly safe – protect her in the arena. Let her live the pampered life of the Queen.

It pained me that she and Freddie would be the lovebirds of the nation while my corpse rotted, but at least they'd be safe. Safe and happy. Together.

It made me feel sick, despite the happy thoughts.

The door opened and Wendy rushed in, a pile of clothes in her arms. "You'll be wearing this for training," she said, throwing the clothes at us. I caught my shirt, looking it over. It was crimson, and was made of a thick fabric I didn't recognize. It was heavy, I noticed, from something on the inside.

Wendy saw my puzzled expression. "There's a layer of metal on the inside. It's there incase you get stabbed 'accidentally'," she said, putting quotation marks around the last word. "In the arena, you'll be wearing actual armor – though, each person will receive protection in different places, in order to 'spice it up'. Just another way to make it unfair."

Well that was comforting. They'd probably put me out there in nothing but a helmet. Maybe I'd get an armored bra – if I was lucky.

"I'll get your breakfast while you change," she said, leaving them.

I looked at Carly. She stared at the shirt, holding it out in front of her, as if it was going to bite her. I took off my gown and slipped on the shirt – it was heavier than I thought.

The pants were tight and uncomfortable, but I'd dealt with worse before. I wearily put them on, then my boots. My hair was in knots, and I pulled on it.

Carly looked at me, dressed as well. The sadness in her eyes told me that she was thinking of the arena – of my sure death.

_I could win, if I wanted to. _

The thought made me shake my head. Me, the Queen? Freddie's bride? That was more ludicrous than any dream I'd ever had. The Queen was supposed to be lady-like, supposed to have chemistry with the King. Freddie had gone back to hating me – or what we called hating – immediately after our little fling ended. The King and Queen were supposed to be the lovebirds of the nation, the most obvious and obsessive people in love. I couldn't be romantic if I was shot with a thousand arrows, let alone fall over someone every second of every day.

Besides those obvious flaws, my hatred of the government would do me in anyway. Carly could cover up her dislike, but even I couldn't lie that well. Carly would be a perfect Queen. I would get myself killed.

_I'm going to die anyway._

I shrugged, making Carly raise her eyebrows in question. "Sam–" she began, but was cut off by the door opening. Wendy had a silver tray in her hands. On it sat two plates. Each had eggs, toast, and a small serving of bacon. She placed the tray on the small table in our room, smiling as she poured us milk. My mouth watered at the smell of the bacon.

"Eat up. While you do, I will tend to your hair."

I scarfed down my food, but Carly merely picked at hers, as if she was too nervous to eat anything. Wendy ran a brush through my hair, and began to work on it. I was sort of touchy about my hair, for whatever reason, but her fingers were quick and before I knew it, my curls had been woven into a braid. She moved to Carly, simply brushing her hair and putting it up in a ponytail.

"There. Now, you must join the others outside. The guards will take you to the training field shortly," Wendy said, beckoning us out the door. I saw Carly tense and reached for her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. She looked at our hands, then to me, smiling a little bit.

We walked through the door, and I took a deep breath. The fresh air was nice – not that the room was stuffy, but I didn't feel quite as caged in now.

The other girls were already lined up. I could see Valerie a few feet away, her hair pulled back with a headband. She scowled at me.

Missy, her roommate, had a devious grin on her face. I wanted to punch it off.

Ms. Briggs, who I had an immediate dislike for, stood in front of us. She looked us all over, smiling as she did. Her eyes studied me the longest and I glared at her, my eyes daring her to say something to me or Carly. She simply put her nose back in the air, not even bothering to comment on our intertwined hands.

"Welcome ladies, to your first day of training. What we'll do today is very simple – you'll be put against one of your competitors with just your bare hands. We want to see how you do without weapons. Your actions will be recorded and will be reported back to the King. He won't watch today, but he will at some point this week."

Some of the girls sighed with relief, but I was unaffected. Even with him watching, I wouldn't be pressured. I wasn't here to impress anyone.

She went up to each girl, strapping a black band on each of their wrists. "These," she said, as she went down the line, "are to ensure that none of you try to leave the group." She put one on Carly, and then me, not even looking at my face.

I inspected my wrist. The band reminded me of something I'd once seen on a dog to keep it in its yard – a shock collar. They were going to fry us if we tried to escape?

"This way," she said, leading us. A guard grabbed my arm. I looked up at him, and realized that he was the guard who had stabbed me. His eyes glowed like that of a cat's, and I burned holes into his head. He was quite muscular, even handsome. But he was an enemy, and therefore was ranked below vermin on my list.

He sneered at me, yanking my sore arm as if to prove I was at his mercy. I almost spit on him.

His partner grabbed Carly and forced us down the path that would lead to the training field – a plot of grass where Freddie could easily view us from one of the many balconies.

Once we finally reached the training field, I yanked my arm out of the guard's grasp. He glowered at me, reaching again for my arm, but his hand closed around air. His face twisted in anger, and he raised his hand, as if to hit me.

"Is there a problem?"

We both turned to see that everyone was staring at us. "No," I said, my voice cold. _He only stabbed me and took Freddie away. There's nothing wrong with that. It's not like I want to choke him to death or anything._

"Very well, then. Since you seem so eager for a fight, Miss Puckett, then you can go first."

Wendy, along with a few other servants, watched close by. I wondered why she wasn't with Freddie – after all, she was supposed to be his servant. She looked at Carly, then me, her eyes studying us, inspecting the way we stood. She was a very observant person.

"Your partner will be Sabrina Belks," Ms. Briggs said. I watched as the tallest girl stepped from the line, released by the guard. She was bigger than I was – not fat, just large. She had an athletic build, and stood at least six inches above me. She had frizzy red hair and large eyes. She didn't seem very menacing, but after a moment or so, she got a fighting look in her eyes. She wanted to prove herself.

_You don't know me,_ I thought. _You don't know what I can do._

"Take your places." Both of us stood in the center of the field, being watched by the girls and the guards. I could feel more eyes on us, and discovered that a gardener was also watching us. I thought I saw someone move beyond the gates – some reporters.

I couldn't show any weakness, because the girls – the smart ones, at least – were looking for it, looking for a way to take me out in the arena. I had to last long enough to ensure Carly lived. There was no way one of these scamps was taking that away from me.

"Begin." Suddenly, everything was still. The clouds stopped moving, the contestants stopped breathing, and Sabrina and I were there to fight. I knew how small I must've looked compared to her – how puny. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Valerie smirking. She thought Sabrina would make quick work of me.

Time to prove her wrong.

Sabrina charged at me, and I leapt out of the way. She turned, growling at me. I raised my eyebrows. She didn't move.

I waved her on, provoking her. Her eyes narrowed, and she came charging again. I dodged her once again.

"She's too chicken to do anything offensive," I heard Valerie say to Missy, who smirked in response. I turned red with anger. Did I look that stupid?

This time I charged, jumping so that my fist collided with Sabrina's eye. She stumbled back. I didn't give her time to recover. I kicked her stomach, making her double over, then I put her in a headlock. Using the strength very few of them knew I had, I flipped her. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, the breath knocked out of her. I looked towards the girls. Some of them seemed afraid – others looked shocked. Carly looked concerned for Sabrina.

I bent down, staring at Sabrina. Her eyes were large with fright, and a small part of me felt bad. She hadn't been the one I was mad at – she had just been a victim. I raised my eyebrow at her. "Uncle," she rasped. I nodded, standing up to look at them all.

A guard helped Sabrina to her feet, and I turned to Ms. Briggs, who had just finished jotting something down on her clipboard. "Anyone else you want me to go against?" I asked.

"I think we'll let some of the other girls go up. Why don't you get a drink from the table?"

I nodded, glaring at Valerie and Missy as I passed. Missy, as always, seemed unbothered. Valerie glared right back, but underneath her scowl I could see the fear – the knowledge that I was a fighter. A capable killer.

A table was set up nearby, a servant manning it. On the table were cups of water and small snacks, things to keep our energy up. I gulped down two cups of water and devoured three health bars. The servant, a balding man, watched me in both disgust and wonderment.

The guards kept a close eye on me. I noticed they were evenly spread out around our little field. I looked at the remote in Ms. Brigg's hand – the one I was sure controlled the band on my wrist. It wasn't like I was going to run away, anyway.

Soon, I went back to watch the girls fight. Missy, I learned, was quick on her feet, and ended up outsmarting her opponent. She took the girl by surprise, pouncing on her back. I felt this told me something about her character. She was sneaky, maybe even low.

Valerie ended up losing to her opponent. The girl, Lisa, got in a lucky hit and knocked her unconscious. I tried my best not to laugh.

Carly was called last. She went against a dark-skinned girl who looked naturally strong. She looked at Carly like she was something she could tip over with a flick to the forehead; an easy target. I let out a growl, my fist clenching.

I focused on Carly. She looked at me, her eyes frightened, like a doe's when she knows she's being hunted. _"Show no fear," _I mouthed to her. She nodded, looking towards her opponent. Her hands balled into fists, and she took a fighting stance. Good.

"Begin," Ms. Brigg's commanded. The girl took a step forward, and Carly took a step back. She looked towards me, and I put up my fist. _Fight._

Carly swung at her, but the girl caught her hand. I sucked on my teeth. Her opponent twisted her arm, making Carly cry out. I took a step forward, before pulling myself back. This was Carly's fight. I couldn't intervene.

Carly yanked her arm from the girl's grasp, stumbling back a few feet. She rubbed her arm, looking at her. She looked at the girl's legs. Suddenly, Carly's foot shot out, kicking the girl in the leg. The girl stumbled back, catching herself just in time. Carly tried to kick her again, but the girl caught her foot, taking it and spinning her around. She let go, and Carly hit the ground. The girl picked her up by the front of her shirt and punched her square in the face.

That was enough.

I lunged, tackling the girl. She fell backward, releasing Carly. I punched her face – her nose, her eye, her jaw – making marks that would swell. Carly clutched her face, not even bothering to try to stop me. Ms. Brigg's yelled for me to stop, but it was the brunette guard that finally pulled me off her. She was crying, her nose bent in an odd position.

First rule of being a contestant – do not hurt Carly.

I was starting to think that this was not to see who was better than who. It was mainly to get us pissed at each other, so it would be easier for us to kill each other in the arena. It was to strike fear into the hearts of the weaker ones, to drive others to paranoia. Otherwise it would be more professional.

I ended up kicking the guard so hard he let me go. I hissed at him, backing up. A woman, who I assumed to be a nurse, came onto the grounds and escorted the girl to the far end, looking her face over.

"Learn to control yourself, Miss Puckett!" Ms. Briggs yelled. I glared at her, knowing she was not just referring to my attack on the girl, but also to my attack on Freddie's lips.

Well, if anything had been accomplished, I had made a reputation for myself – uncontrollable, explosive, and violent. Not to be messed with. Maybe they'd avoid me in the arena for this reason. Or maybe they'd all gang up on me and take me out. One can only guess.

Ms. Briggs looked towards the two guards who'd taken Freddie. "Logan. Moose. Take her back to the contestant's quarters. She will be exempt from the rest of today's training. Lock her in her room and make sure she does not come out."

The guards looked at each other, then both of them grabbed me by my arms. I struggled against them.

Suddenly, an overwhelming pain swept through me, and my feet gave way. I gasped, electricity making my fingers clench. "Ms. Briggs!" I heard Wendy gasp. The pain stopped, leaving me shaking. I heard snickers from Missy and Valerie, who'd woken up recently.

"Shut up, you stupid girl!" Ms. Brigg's backhanded her. Wendy stumbled back, clutching her cheek. I seethed.

The guards had already started to drag me away, back to the cabin. Wendy began to follow us, but Ms. Briggs pulled her back. "And where do you think you're going?"

"I have been given direct orders by the King to watch over her, thank you very much!" The snickers stopped, and I could feel pairs of eyes burning into my skull, all green with envy. "That's not fair!" one girl cried.

"Life's not fair!" Carly snapped, actually making the girl jump. She scowled at the rest of them.

Ms. Briggs stared at Wendy, furious. Wendy's cheeks had reddened. "Well, get out of here, then! Go on!" Wendy backed away, following us as the guards pulled me away. I tried to muster enough strength to fight back. I couldn't leave Carly to fend for herself.

"She'll be fine," Wendy whispered to me, seeing that I was trying to break free, pulling slightly on their hold. One of the guards – Logan, I think – muttered something like "She never gives up, does she?", his grip tightening on my arm.

Finally, we reached the building where the contestants were kept. They unlocked the door and threw me into the room, Wendy catching my head before it hit the floor. The door locked behind us.

"I can't wait until the King hears about this. I hope he eats Ms. Briggs for dinner," she muttered, gently lifting me up. All I could do was grumble, desperately fighting to stay awake, to keep my eyes open.

"Being shocked takes a lot out of you. Trust me, I would know. Just sleep. I'll make sure the King hears about this," she said, hoisting me up and onto my bed. I felt her take off my boots, brush the hair out of my face. It was almost like being taken care of by a mother I never had.

"I'll be back," she said. I heard her go to the door. "It's me, idiots." Then there was the creaking sound of the door opening and closing. The last thing I heard was the lock click before I fell asleep.

* * *

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	10. Tender Shock

_**Thank you to those of you who reviewed, especially those who do so every chapter. :^) If you're reading, please give a review! They make me happy. **_

* * *

"_There's only one way to stop this ache."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

"Sam?"

I groaned, my eyes opening. Everything ached, though not as bad as it did before; it was much duller now, but it was painful enough. Carly sat on the edge of my bed, her cheek swelling. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Are you?" She nodded, smiling at me. "That was a stupid thing to do, you know."

"She was hurting you," I defended. I sat up, and Carly wrapped her arms around me. "I'm just glad your okay," she said. I sighed, breathing in the scent of her. Even though it'd been a while since she put it on, I could smell her perfume. It made me think of Paris, of a couple underneath the stars, standing on the Eiffel Tower. The couple came into focus – it was her and Freddie.

My stomach knotted, a pang of hurt stabbing my heart. I let go of her, wanting the once pleasant image to go away and leave me alone.

"Wendy told Freddie about what happened. Training ended early because Ms. Briggs was called away to see him. She looked very unhappy. Some of the girls did too."

"Good," I muttered, holding my head.

"I think Wendy likes you," Carly said out of the blue.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, shifting.

"I'm not sure. She seems to care for you. Me, too. Maybe Freddie tells her nice things about us." I scooted over, so Carly would have more room to sit with me.

"What nice things would he say about me?" I asked, rubbing my head. Chiz, Wendy was right. I was still tired, still hurting. It was even worse than being tazed, which after the second time, I had pretty much gotten used to. It was a rush.

"Oh, will you shut up? You're close to him and you know it. You know he cares about you. If he didn't, you wouldn't be here. Neither would I."

I sighed. "I guess you're right."

I leaned back against my pillow. A warm spring breeze blew in through the barred window, through my hair. Carly played with a strand of hers, looking at the bed spread. She wanted to tell me something, I could tell. I knew what it was about, too.

"Sam, about the arena–"

"Don't, Carly," I said, closing my eyes.

"But you don't understand, Sam. I– I'm not cut out to be Queen."

I turned over on my side, looking up at her. "And you think I am?"

"You would handle it better than me. You could be strong. I – I'd crumble."

"Freddie will be strong enough for you both," I said, turning back over, away from her.

"Sam, it'd kill him. It'd kill _me_. I don't know how to run a nation. I don't know how to get through tough times. You do."

"You don't have to run a nation. You have to act as in-love as possible – which shouldn't be hard for the both of you. You act like nothing bothers you, put on a front for the cameras, say a few speeches, and get waited on day and night. I assure you, it won't be that tough."

"I couldn't handle it," she whispered.

I turned back over, seeing that she was crying. I sat up. I put my hands on her shoulders, and very gently, but seriously, said, "Carly, one of us has to die."

"But why does it have to be you?" she cried, collapsing in a heap, flinging herself into my arms. She sobbed into my chest, and I could feel my walls crumbling, tears threatening to appear. If there was one thing that got to me, it was seeing Carly upset. Over minor things, it didn't bother me as much. But now, knowing that my time was limited and that she was feeling real pain, it upset me.

"Because, Carly. You have more people that care about you. You'd make a better Queen than me. You're better for Freddie – for everyone. And I will protect you no matter what." She sobbed harder, her arms wrapped tight around me, making me ache even more, but in a different way. For a moment, I wished that it was a group hug, that Freddie was here to wrap his strong arms around us both, tell us it would be okay. I knew that even if I didn't believe him, it would make me feel better. He could do that.

But he was off being King, a crown forcibly held on his head.

Someone knocked on the door. "Carly? Sam?" Wendy's voice called from the other side of the door. "Are you okay?" Her voice seemed genuinely concerned.

_No, we're not okay_, I thought. _No one's okay._

"Yeah," I lied. "Come in."

Carly wiped her tears and the door creaked open. Wendy stepped in, her cheek still red, a reminder of Ms. Brigg's hand. "He's angry," she said, coming closer. She came as close to us as she can, whispering. "And he desperately wants to see you both."

"Too risky," I said. Carly sniffled. She gave me a pathetic look, one that said, _"I don't care. I want to see him."_

"Please? For me?" she asked. How could I deny her? I looked towards Wendy. "How?" I asked, deadpanned. Carly smiled through her tears.

"I know a guy who can make some sleep syrup. I can put it in everyone's drinks – the contestants', the guards', even Ms. Brigg's. It'll knock them out for at least an hour. Then I can sneak you out, and you guys can have some alone time."

"You really think it'll work?" I asked.

"It's worth a shot, don't you think?" In the back of my brain, something told me not to trust her. My head said no. My gut said yes. My heart said, _Try anything._ It was the most desperate. For the first time, I went with it, my gut backing up my decision.

I looked at Carly, who was pleading. I sighed. "Sounds good enough to me. When?"

"Tomorrow. I won't have enough time to prepare everything tonight. Is that alright?"

This was day one. We had four days until the arena. Four days left of life.

"It's fine." She smiled, curtseying. "I must return to Freddie." She shook her head, catching herself. "The King, I mean." She headed towards the door, her hand on the knob. "Wendy?" I called. She turned.

"You can call him Freddie around us." She smiled, nodding. "And… thank you."

Her smile had turned to a grin, going from one ear to the other. It made her eyes light up. "You're welcome." And with that said, she left.

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

Anger coursed through me as I paced my room. How dare she? How _dare_ she?

"_You shocked her?" I asked, my voice loud and angry._

"_Now, I know you're angry, but you have to understand, she was breaking the rules–"_

"_She was helping her friend!" I defended. _

"_She was resisting the guards! Something had to be done, your highness. Just because you're fond of her does not mean that she can do whatever she pleases!" Ms. Briggs yelled back at me._

"_Just because you have some authority, it does not give you the right to hurt her!" She was just a piece of meat to her, wasn't she? They all were! _

"_Actually, it does!" she shouted. "It is stated in the Book of Laws that I can do whatever I please in order to get the ladies to behave. She is not Queen! You cannot keep her protected. She is just like all the other girls, the same as every girl that has come before her."_

"_She isn't to me," I hissed, my voice deadly. Ms. Briggs just stared at me, as if trying to decide what to make of me._

_I glowered at her, before turning on my heel and storming out of the room, slamming the door on the way out. _

I looked at myself in the mirror. The crown on my head made me look different – superior, royal – one of them. I hated it.

I took the crown from my head and chucked it at the mirror. There was a hideous crashing sound as the mirror shattered, the crown hitting the floor. It rolled across the floor, coming to a stop next to another dresser. I looked at it, disgusted. It wasn't even dented.

Someone knocked on my door. "Go away!" I barked.

"Freddie, it's me," Wendy said from the other side of the door. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I tried to compose myself, opening the door for her.

She closed the door, looking around at the shattered mirror and the crown on the floor. "What happened?" she asked, seeming horrified.

"Not important. What did they say?" I asked.

"They agreed. The plan will be carried out tomorrow evening," she said. I sighed, my heart a little more at ease. "That's… great." I could feel myself smiling, even if it was warily. I could already feel them in my arms, their hair tickling my cheeks. It made my heart soar.

Wendy walked over to the crown, picking it up gingerly. "This thing costs more than my life. It's probably best that you don't throw it around."

"I hate it," I said, as if it were the cause of my problems – all my heartache.

She walked over to me, standing on her tiptoes. She placed it on my head. "It resembles the burden you're carrying around. It's only going to get heavier, so you might as well get used to it."

Her words weren't comforting, but they were true. She was blunt, in a way – realistic, like Sam. Oh, _Sam._

Wendy must've seen my expression change, because she put her feet back on the ground, pulling away from me. Her eyes held sympathy, understanding. "You're thinking of her, aren't you?" she asked.

"No," I lied. She saw right through it. She opened her arms wide, offering a hug that I gladly took. It felt good to be comforted by someone. She smelled of vanilla, her body warm against mine. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she was a friend.

I pulled away from her, looking towards the dresser where today's newspaper sat. On the cover was a picture of Carly, Sam, and me, from our younger years. How the press got it, I'd never know. If Ms. Briggs had been right about one thing, it was about the press having a field day. On the next page were pictures of us. One was of Carly and me dancing. Another was of Sam bowing to me. And the last, the nation's favorite, was the picture of her kissing me. My eyes were wider than I thought, and it was obvious that I was stunned. The writers commented on how I preferred her over the others, and the polls at the bottom showed that voters thought she would most likely be Queen.

But she wouldn't. She would be dead.

_Dead. Sam will be dead._ _The girl I'm still in love with will be dead._

I couldn't wrap my mind around that. I didn't want to. She was my best friend, for Christ's Sakes. But if she was determined to die in place of Carly, then she was going to. And I couldn't stop her.

I wasn't picking her over Carly. If it were reversed, I would be just as torn up. But once Sam was gone, I would have to be the strong one. I would have to piece Carly back together, just as I did myself. And I didn't know if I could do that.

_If she dies, I'll die with her._

I was a dead man.

* * *

_Review to see the plan unfold._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	11. Broken Glass

_**Wow, thank you for all the reviews! I got more than usual!**_

_**This is one of my favorite chapters, though it isn't the longest.**_

_**Oh, and thank you to those of you who have found me on Tumblr. If you ever want to know anything on Ceremonials -how many chapters are already written, when the next update is, etc. - then put your question in my ask.**_

_**Enough of this. Here's the next chapter.**_

* * *

"_Oh, the things we risk for the ones we love."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

We woke up the next morning to another day of training. This time, we weren't fighting each other, which was a relief for Carly. We were practicing with non-living targets.

We arrived at the field around what Wendy told me was seven. Leather dummies were set up around the field, about ten lined up in each row. Each of us got our own line, and our own weapon to maim the dummies with. Of course, we weren't allowed to hurt each other or ourselves, and if we tried, we were shocked. Carly had practically begged me not to do anything defiant, and my body wasn't exactly ready for anymore electricity, so I behaved as well as I could.

First, I was given a simple knife. I practiced throwing it, hitting the dummy where its left eye would have been the first time; which would have been good, I guess, if I hadn't been aiming for the heart.

After maiming the third dummy and finally hitting the heart about ten times, I was given a sword. I succeeded in sticking it completely through Four and Five's chests', and then proceeded to chop their heads off, which even earned me an appreciative glance from one of the guards.

Freddie was watching from the balcony, Wendy by his side. I could feel his eyes on me as I ripped dummy after dummy apart, tearing off limbs and cutting holes that made some of the other contestants cringe.

After lunch, we began to work with moving targets. I had more trouble with this, especially because Ms. Briggs could operate some of them, and make them jerk out of the way when I thought I had them. It made me curse under my breath, and also made the other girls snicker.

She seemed to spend extra time torturing me, and I finally lost my temper. I dropped my weapon and stood back, just watching the dummy move back and forth – tempting me, provoking me. The other contestants had stopped what they were doing to watch me, half of them waiting for me to blow up.

_Back, forth. Back, forth. _

Time seemed to slow down.

_Back, forth. Baaacckkkk, forrrthhhhh…._

I pounced, grabbing a knife from my side. I landed on the dummy, and began stabbing it, taking out all my anger. I breathed heavily, my knife coming down again and again, cutting and stabbing and maiming, oh my. Once I was finished, it was no longer moving – no one was moving. I dismounted and stood up, looking around at my competitors. Their mouths were open in shock. The guards, who had been trained not to show emotion, had wide eyes. Even Carly looked surprised.

I looked up at the balcony. Wendy's hands were clutching the edge of the balcony, her eyes like dinner plates. I was almost afraid to look at Freddie's face – surely he thought I was a monster, even more so than before. But he didn't seem shocked, or afraid, or even bothered. He just looked at me, inspecting something on my shoulder. I realized he was looking at my cut – it gleamed bright red in the sunlight.

I turned away from him, towards Ms. Briggs. "How'd I do?" I had the nerve to ask.

"It– It–" she tried to say, but was at a loss for words. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Just go get a drink of water or something," she finally spit out. I nodded, going to the small table that was set up just outside the field, in the shade of a cherry tree. What time was it? Three? Four? I hoped it was the latter, because the later it was, the closer I was to seeing Freddie.

And the closer I was to death. But I tried to focus on the positive.

* * *

After three more hours, night fell and we were served our dinner. We all ate together, right outside of our rooms. Ms. Briggs and the guards ate with us, and I couldn't help but think how lucky we were. I didn't realize what strings Wendy had pulled to get it that way.

Carly and I made small talk, as did Valerie with Missy, but everyone else was silent. Wendy served us all sweet-smelling drinks close to the end, and Carly and I both looked at each other expectantly. The liquid was a dark crimson color, as if berries had been mixed in with it. Everyone gulped it down, happy to taste something besides water, but Carly and I only pretended to drink ours.

Within minutes, everyone around us was yawning. "To bed, all of you," Ms. Briggs commanded, her voice sounding even more tired by the second. We went into our rooms, putting on the fresh nightgowns they gave us. We patiently waited.

Soon, we heard the lock turn. Both of us sat up to see Wendy, who was smiling. "Everyone will be sound asleep for about an hour and a half. We don't have much time, so we better get moving."

We crept past the sleeping guards and quickly began to run towards the castle, weaving in an out of the shadows. Our feet were bare, and the gowns didn't offer much protection from the wind, but we were so excited to see Freddie that we didn't care.

We went in through one of the back doors, Wendy unlocking it for us. It'd taken us about five minutes to get to the castle on foot, and Wendy told us it would take even longer to get to the royal bedroom.

As we hastily, but quietly, made our way to the bedroom, we passed many servants.

"Won't they rat us out?" I asked, glancing at two maids as we hurried by.

"Oh no," Wendy said. "That would upset the King, number one – and that is something the servants have sworn not to do. I have enough dirt on them all to get them fired – and some of them beheaded, so that also makes them hold their tongues. And they're all convinced that one of you is bound to be Queen, and no one wants to piss off the future Queen, now do they?" she asked rhetorically, grinning at us both.

That made me feel a little better, but I couldn't help but feel distrusting as I felt their eyes follow us up the staircases and down the halls.

If we hadn't been rushing through the place so quickly, I might've noticed its grandeur – the fine furniture, the expensive paintings and sculptures, the silk-woven tapestries and carpets. The only thing I really noticed was all the places I saw the Kingdom's symbol. It was in paintings, on walls, sculptures, windows, uniforms. Everywhere I turned, there were those two stupid birds, connected at the beak. The silver one – the one that stood for royalty and riches – was Freddie. The red one – the one that stood for blood and sacrifice – would be Carly. I wanted to rip the symbol from the walls, tear it into a million shreds. Because with every one I saw, I could see the birds' eyes twinkle, smaller birds flying around them. Those birds mocked me, sickened me so. I hated them, the eviler versions of my two best friends. They showed me what was to come, the unavoidable future that was doomed to happen.

At least there was no dead bird at the bottom of the symbol.

Finally, after seeing bird after sickening bird, we were standing in front of a door, one with a golden knob. Wendy stuck her key in, and Carly grabbed my hand, squeezing it in anticipation. She turned the key, opening the door.

Freddie stood by the window, his hands clutching the frame. He was dressed in what he had worn earlier that day – a thick, silver shirt and pants, along with black shoes. Jewel-encrusted buttons ran down his shirt. His crown sparkled on top of his head. Despite how royal his clothes were, he seemed unhappy – worried even.

When he heard the door open, he turned, an eager expression on his face. His eyes lit up once he saw us.

"Freddie!" Carly cried, running into his arms. He stumbled back before regaining his balance, chuckling. "Hey Carly," he said, smiling down at her. She buried her head into his chest, clinging to him. I moved closer, but didn't touch either of them.

He looked at me. "Hey, Freddork," I said. He opened his other arm, offering me half of the hug. I raised an eyebrow. He didn't really think–

Someone shoved me from behind, giving Freddie the opportunity to grab my arm and bring me forward, forcing me against his chest. His arm wrapped around me, strong and protective. I tensed, but then relaxed, allowing my head to rest against him. The smell of cinnamon surrounded me like a thick haze, calming me. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

I knew he was smiling when he whispered, "Hey, Sam."

Carly and I were nestled against Freddie, and I could only imagine how we must've looked to Wendy. She let out a sweet sigh. "I'll leave you alone," she said, backing out of the room. We ignored her, simply enjoying each other's embrace. I never would've allowed this if I hadn't been close to death. I didn't hold onto someone like they were my life, because I was independent. I was strong. Or, so I kept telling myself, as I practically melted in his arms. For a moment, everything was alright. I was getting the group hug I'd longed for just yesterday.

Eventually, after what could've been ages, we pulled away from each other. Freddie kept one hand on each of us, as if he was afraid we'd disappear if he didn't keep his hold.

"I'd ask how you both are, but I think I already know," he said. Carly and I looked at each other, before she burst into tears. I jumped, because I hadn't expected it. Although, I probably should have.

"I– she– we– What if–? I– I–" Carly sobbed. Her thoughts were unintelligible, and I looked at her in puzzlement. Freddie took over immediately, taking his hand off of me and wrapping both of his arms around Carly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. It left me feeling cold and left out, and all I could see when I looked at them were the two kingdom birds. The two birds that sickened me.

"It'll be okay, Carly," Freddie said, trying to comfort her.

"Not it won't!" Carly wailed. Even when she sobbed, she was beautiful, and it made my eyes turn even greener.

"Shh, yes it will. It will," he insisted. She pulled back slightly, her eyes red and teary. "You promise?" she asked.

"I promise," he said, holding her. I turned away, unable to take much more. Though the world hated me, because the first thing I saw was a sculpture of the two birds. It seemed to be made of glass. Somehow I pictured a heart made of glass, shattering all over the floor.

Within seconds, the sound hit my ears. I looked down – the sculpture was in pieces on the floor.

"Sam!" I felt a protective arm pull me back, but it was too late. My hands and feet had glass in them, blood dripping from my hands. I think I smashed it.

The door burst open, Wendy running in, her eyes wide with panic. "Thank God– Wendy, she's hurt –" Freddie began.

"They're starting to wake up," she panted, panic in her voice.

"What?" Carly asked, her eyes wide in horror.

"They're starting to wake up!" she cried. "Come on, we have to go – now!" She pulled on Carly, and I burst free of Freddie's grasp, running after her. Freddie ran after us, calling out the bedroom door.

"I love you both!" he yelled as we sped down the hallway. "We love you too!" Carly answered for us, as we raced down the hallway and stairs. Servants were scrambling out of our way, taking cover. Pain was coursing through my hands and feet, panic fueling me.

We ran through the back door, through the wooded area that led to the building where we slept. We kept stumbling, tripping over roots and branches and our own feet. All I could think was, "_We're going to die. They're going to kill all three of us."_

The guards were already stirring once we got there. We barely had time to scramble into the room, jumping into our beds and pulling the blankets as close to our chins as we could. Wendy hid under the bed.

No sooner had I taken my first breath, Ms. Briggs entered the room, two guards behind her. She held a lantern up to our faces, trying to decide if we were asleep. She held it to my face the longest, and I could feel her eyes burning into me, just waiting for me to make some sort of movement – all it would take was a twitch, and I would be a goner. I didn't move. I didn't eve breathe.

"Come on, let's go," she muttered to the guards. "Next time I catch you sleeping on the job, you'll be thrown in the dungeon." The door closed behind the three of them.

Ten minutes. We waited ten minutes for something to happen – for Ms. Briggs to come back into the room and electrocute us. But no one came.

Eventually, when we decided it was safe, we all got up, checking ourselves over. My bed sheets were bloody, as were my hands and feet. And even though I wouldn't admit it, and no one commented on it, I was shaking.

Wendy ended up picking the glass from my hands and feet by moonlight, then she wrapped the bloodied limbs in the pieces of fabric she'd ripped off my gown.

"It's ruined anyway – with the dirt and blood and all. But I planned for it to be unclean, so I hid two extra gowns underneath Carly's pillow."

Sure enough, she had. We changed into the gowns, and she gathered my bed sheets. I was a zombie by this time, and I curled up in a ball on my barren mattress as Wendy slipped through the window. As I fell asleep, I could hear Freddie's last words to us.

"_I love you both!"_

"_I love you both."_

"_I love you both…"_

"_I love you…."_

* * *

_I just can't believe that Wendy's drinks were faulty..._

_Or were they?_

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	12. A Maiden Who Matters

**_Oh my God at all the reviews! Just... ahh. X^D_**

**_ I'd planned on updating this morning, but I was drowning in chores and couldn't find the time._**

**_I hope to update more often because I cannot WAIT for you all to get to chapter seventeen. Eighteen is my favorite so far, but seventeen's pretty good as well so..._**

**_Keep thinking about my author's notes... and remember who the enemies are._**

* * *

"_Her body cried for help, but her lips said nothing."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

The next two days went by in a blur. While we slept, the field was redesigned. Walls were put up so that we couldn't see each other – only hear each other. On the first day we were separated, we had experts come in and teach us some battle skills. My trainer, a tan woman named Sasha, fought me physically, teaching me the best ways to kill someone with a sword. She also helped me with my defense tactics, which was my weaker spot. By the end of the second day, I felt I was as ready as I was going to be for the arena.

Finally, it was the last day. Wendy woke me up earlier than everyone else, and gave me a cup of something warm.

"Coffee?" I asked, inspecting the dark liquid. "Yeah, I thought it might give you a jumpstart," she said, grinning at me. I realized that Carly had been right – Wendy did like me. Even if she hadn't liked Freddie, she still would've brought me the coffee; she still would've helped me out.

It was strangely calming, knowing I had a friend who lived inside the palace. Well, besides Freddie, of course.

I took a sip of it; it was just the way I liked it – two scoops of sugar with no cream. I looked at her questioningly. She smiled. "Freddie told me that's how you like it."

_Of course he did,_ I thought, taking another sip. I looked at her bare hands. "Where's Carly's?" My eyes drifted to her, lying on her bed across the room. She seemed so innocent in her sleep….

Wendy shrugged. "I didn't really think she'd be able to handle it – not that she's weak or anything, I just thought when it wore off–"

"I get it," I said, taking yet another sip. The liquid was rich and reminded me of mornings at Ridgeway. I loved the aftertaste it would leave me with.

She looked down at my hands. Cuts were scattered over each one, the cuts on my right deeper and longer. I had come to the decision that I had actually _punched_ the glass sculpture, and that was what caused it to fall and shatter, even though I had no recollection of it.

"How are your hands?" she asked. I rolled my eyes. "They're fine."

"Well, Freddie's worried about them."

This earned her another eye roll. "Fredward's worried about _everything_. Seriously. He's going to turn into his mom if he isn't careful." Wendy chuckled, though she seemed disturbed by the cuts on my hands as well. She picked up the first-aid kit she'd brought along with her, as she had the two mornings before. "Here, at least let me clean them."

I thrust my hands toward her. She took the right one in her hand first, getting out the antibiotic medicine and rubbing it in. It stung at first, but soothed the cuts a few seconds later. I sighed.

"He didn't sleep at all last night," she said, cleaning my other hand. It took me a second to realize she was talking about Freddie. I didn't say anything, only looked at her, my eyebrows furrowed. She didn't meet my eyes.

"He just looked out the window all the night. At first I thought that maybe he was just restless, or worried about who would be Queen… but then I saw his face."

My throat constricted when she looked at me. Her eyes were very much like mine. They told me what she wanted to say, but even then she continued.

"Do you know what your death is going to do to him?" she asked.

"He'll be fine," I said hoarsely. Her eyes were stones.

"He won't."

"What do you want from me? It's me or Carly, and it's not like he wants her to die instead."

Wendy looked towards Carly, who was oblivious to our conversation. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes boring into mine – blue on blue. "I just want you to consider your options."

My face darkened. "I'm not running away."

"Carly will still be Queen – she can do it!"

"Says the girl who wouldn't give her coffee because she thought she couldn't handle it!" I said. Carly stirred in her sleep, burying her head into the thin quilt on her bed.

"He likes her more anyway," I said, letting that piece of information slip.

Wendy looked at me as though I had grown a tail. "You really think that?"

I shrugged. "I know it. It's not a big deal… it's always been that way."

My own words hurt me, because I instantly remembered those weeks when it had _not_ been that way. She raised an eyebrow, as if she thought I was lying.

"I don't think you know how much you matter to him." She put the medicine away, standing up. "I'm sorry I said anything – I know it's not my place. I just wondered if you realized." She stared at me, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Now I see that you don't." She turned, going to the door. "Where are you going?" I asked.

Her eyes were darker when she looked at me again. "I'm going to get your clothes. You might want to wake Carly up in a few minutes." Wendy left.

I sat on my bed, unsure of what to do next.

"_I don't think you know how much you matter."_

Yeah, because I mattered so much the other night, when he was all over Carly….

I recoiled in shock. He hadn't been all over Carly! He'd been comforting her! Where did that thought even come from?

Green eyes peered at me from somewhere in the depths of my thoughts. I realized, staring into the green eyes that resembled my own, that I was jealous; jealous that Carly was going to live and I was not; jealous that she would be curled up with Freddie late at night while my corpse rotted; jealous that she was finally going to have him, and that he was finally going to have her, after all those years with the possibility just hanging above their heads. They were going to have each other, and I was not.

I felt sick again. I downed the rest of my coffee, hoping it would help. It only made me feel worse.

"_I just wondered if you realized."_

He cared about me – I knew that. I cared about him too, more than I would admit. But he would be able to get over my death. He'd have Carly and Wendy – the whole nation. He'd be fine.

…wouldn't he?

I shook my head, trying to clear the disturbing thoughts out of it. Even if he wouldn't be okay, I still had to do it. It was me or Carly, and there was no way I was letting Carly die.

The girl of my thoughts let out a small gasp, her eyes shooting open. She sat up, her eyes frantic. I looked over at her in alarm.

Her eyes surveyed her surroundings, and when she saw me, she visibly relaxed. "Nightmare," she breathed. She sniffed. "Is that coffee?" she asked, pointing at my cup.

"It's all gone," I shrugged, turning it over to prove my point. Carly got up, coming over to my bed. She looked at me for a moment, her face emotionless. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around me, locking me in a tight embrace. I jumped.

"I just need a hug," she said. I patted her gently on the back, gently hugging her back. It was then that I realized I needed hug too.

* * *

"Good morning, ladies. Today we're going to be doing what I call 'free play'."

We all stood in a straight line, soldiers by our sides. Today, Logan was beside me – Moose was beside Carly. Ms. Briggs, wearing alligator heels, was standing in front of us, her glasses freshly shined. I could've spit on her.

"What I mean by this is that there will be no real objective today. Your trainers are done with you. Each of you can find a partner, because that's who you'll be training with today. And remember… the King will watch later on this afternoon."

Valerie and Missy grinned. I only rolled my eyes.

We were escorted to the field, and I looked at the temporary walls they had set up. They were the color of storm clouds, of gravestones. They were set up so that three walls surrounded two people, a space left remaining so Freddie could watch us with ease. He wouldn't watch us until that afternoon, but I noticed Wendy was already devoting her attention to us. He must've sent her.

"Group up," Ms. Brigs commanded. I grabbed Carly and we headed over to the weapons. She picked up a sword, and I reached for one myself. I touched it just as Missy did.

We stared each other down, just waiting for the other person to make a move. She looked right, then left, as if to distract me. I raised my eyebrows.

Suddenly, her hand shot out. I grabbed the sword, but realized too late that I had the wrong end. She yanked on it, and my glove was ripped, the edge of the sword slicing my hand. It was a thin cut, but I began to bleed. Blood stained my brown glove, my hand feeling as though tiny bees were stinging my skin.

"Oops," she said, shrugging her shoulders, as if to make her seem innocent. I lunged forward, tackling her. I smeared my blood over her face as she screamed, my fist connecting with her eye. Ms. Briggs was yelling at me to get off her, and Missy was screaming. I hit her harder.

"Stupid little–" I muttered, digging my elbow into her windpipe. She choked, her eyes watering. Carly was yelling now, pleading with me to stop. With all the fighting, I'd forgotten about the band on my wrist – and the unpleasant shock it gave me.

"She's going to shock you!" Carly yelled. Carly – with a surprising strength I didn't know she had, pulled me off the redheaded rat, tumbling backward. I hissed.

"She attacked me for no reason!" Missy cried. Blood dribbled from her lip, her left eye was bruising. Ms. Briggs pulled me up by my arm. "This is the last straw!"

"She had it coming," I growled.

"All I did was pick up a sword!" The other girls were looking at me like I was a monster. Valerie whispered something to Sabrina, who nodded her head and whispered the same thing to the dark-skinned girl.

"You cut me!" I yelled.

"It was an accident!"

"Liar!" I charged at her, but was roughly pulled back by a soldier – Moose.

"I swear, you're not sane enough to be Queen!" Missy yelled.

"Like I want to be Queen in the first place!" I shouted back. Missy gave me a questioningly look, as did everyone – with the exception of Carly and Wendy. I realized that I'd said too much.

Ms. Briggs snapped out of the reverie, pointing her finger at Moose. "Take her to the infirmary. I'll figure out what to do with her after that."

Moose began to pull me forward, and I realized with a start that a reporter was in the bushes. "Get out of here!" I yelled, my temper flaring once again. Some of the girls looked towards the bush, not noticing the woman behind it. I could hear Missy make another comment about my sanity as I was taken away.

I would make sure that I saw her death.

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

"Freddie! Freddie!"

I snapped out of my thoughts, turning away from the painting to see a panicked Wendy. Her face was slightly red from running, her hair plastered to her face. My heart beat unsurely, knowing something was wrong. "Sam's been hurt," she panted.

"What? How'd it happen? Where is she?"

"The Missy girl cut her hand when she reached for a sword. Moose is taking her to the infirmary."

"Where's the infirmary?" I asked, already rushing past her. She grabbed my arm.

"You can't go!" she protested.

"Of course I can! I'm the King!" I said. She gripped my arm harder, putting herself in front of me.

"And you can't fraternize with contestants! We already risked it once!" she contended.

"I don't care. Where's the infirmary?"

Wendy crossed her arms, defiance making her stand taller. Her stance made me think of Sam, but then again, everything made me think of Sam.

We had a staredown, our eyes locked as we had some sort of mental battle. Her eyes seemed thin somehow. They were shallow pools, having the depth of a puddle on the sidewalk.

It dawned on me that the longer I stood here, the more likely it would be that I wouldn't get to see Sam. I disengaged, blowing past her. "If you won't tell me where it is, I'll find it myself," I spat. With that, I stormed out of the parlor, already on my way to find the infirmary.

After walking down two hallways, I saw a young maid. She had to be around thirteen. Once she saw me, her eyes widened and she began to dust feverishly, almost working up a sweat. Her nervousness was almost laughable, but then I remembered how angry I must've looked, and cut her some slack. She seemed like the easily frightened type, anyway.

"Where's the infirmary?" I asked, my tone sharp. She pointed a shaking finger toward my right. "You go down the hall, take a left, down another hall, down a staircase on the left, and down another hall. It's the third door on the right."

After running the directions through my head a few times, I set off down the hall. All I could think about was Sam and blood, blood and Sam It wasn't like she couldn't take care of herself, but the thought of her in pain drove me half insane. How was I going to handle the arena?

I'd already had nightmares about that – her death. In one of my dreams, both she and Carly died, killed by a few soldiers while I was forced to watch. It only added to my hatred of the men in red, the ones who were supposed to protect me. Please. They were making sure I wouldn't escape; they weren't keeping others out, they were keeping me _in._

Finally, I reached the door. I retched it open, the door shaking from the force. I shut it behind me, looking around.

The room was smaller than I had expected, before I realized it was split into two rooms. In the first room, there was a large variety of cabinets and a sink. Two chairs sat against a wall, abandoned. A gray slate door led into the other room.

"Sam?" I called.

The door opened almost immediately, and Sam poked her head out. "What are you _doing_ here?" she asked, coming out of the opposite room. Her tone made me feel foolish already, but I put that on the backburner.

"Wendy said you were hurt."

"Dude, it's just a cut. I'll live," she said, as if she were talking to a complete idiot.

"_I'll live."_ The words made me want to push her; didn't she understand that when she died, a part of me would die too? But in her mind, it was her or Carly. And if Carly died, another piece of me would break off and wither. There was no choosing.

I realized she was holding her opposite hand, and that it was dripping blood. The first drop hit the floor, and a clock in my head made an awfully loud tick – just taunting me as it counted down the minutes until the arena.

"Let me see it," I demanded, opening up my hand.

"What? No!" she denied me, taking a step back. She looked at me, as if I was the insane one.

"Come on, Sam, I just wanna look at it," I insisted.

"Not happening, dork." Her voice was bitter, smaller, as if she was trying to mutter under her breath.

"Just let me look at it!" She moved back, her instincts responding to my shout. Sam studied my face, before her eyes fell to my hand, outstretched, demanding. She tentatively placed her injured hand on mine, letting me examine it as I wished. There was a gash in her palm, starting in the middle and ending at the tip of her wrist. It wasn't very deep, but I knew it had to hurt. Her hand was covered in cuts from the other night, and I inspected them as well, wondering just how the sculpture had fallen. I had been paying attention to Carly, only turning to look at Sam when I heard the horrific crash.

Her blood began to drip onto my hand, but she didn't pull it away. She only looked at me, solemn in silence. Finally, I spoke. "Was it an accident?"

"No." Our eyes met. I thought of the pixie-faced girl who'd done this to her, and wished nothing more than to send her away – far, far away from Sam, to a place where she'd be miserable for a while.

"Did Ms. Briggs do anything to her?"

"No. She hates me, remember? The girls think I'm nuts – or some kind of monster."

"You're not," I told her.

"Psh." She looked away from me, her eyes falling to the ground. She didn't believe me.

I slowly gave her back her hand, and began to rummage through the cabinets. "There's gotta be some paper towels or something in here – antiseptic, bandages – something has got to stop the bleeding…."

"Freddie," Sam said.

"No… no… where are the bandages? Not here, not there…. You'd think they'd be easy to find!"

"Freddie," Sam said, louder this time. I wasn't listening.

I started to look through another cabinet. "Maybe there'll be some in here–"

"Freddie!" Sam yelled, cutting me off. I looked at her. "Just. Stop."

"But you're bleeding–"

"It doesn't matter! Chiz, I'm fine, okay? You don't have to get your antibacterial underpants in a wad every time something happens."

"No, you're not! You're bleeding all over the place, and before you were half-unconscious. No one else is going to help you!"

"I don't need help! I don't need _your_ help, or your protection!"

"Well I think you do!" I said.

"Well I think I don't!"

"Do."

"Don't." She pushed me. I pushed back.

"Do."

"Don't." Push. Push.

"Do!" Push.

"Don't!" she shoved me backwards, and I felt my back hit the wall. Pain shot through me, and I was reminded of how it felt to be around Sam. There was always a lot of pain.

The fire in her eyes flickered, before sputtering a bit. It dyed down as she stared at me, leaving only a few glowing embers. I glared at her, breathing heavily.

The door opened, and a woman dressed in a white nurse's uniform stepped in. She visibly jumped in surprise when she saw us together. I pushed myself off the wall, blowing past Sam as I made my way to the nurse.

"I was never here. Got it?" I asked menacingly, angry at everything and everyone now. The nurse nodded her head furiously, her wide eyes reminding me of the maid in the hallway. I looked back at Sam, who was visibly unhappy.

"And fix her," I said, before storming past the nurse and slamming the door behind me.

* * *

_So, here is where you review._

_What are you thoughts on Moose and Logan? Ms. Briggs? The contestants?_

_Wendy?_

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	13. Be Strong, Beloved

_**SeddieBliss – I never said that. :^)**_

_**You guys can just go ahead and pick your side. Wendy – good or evil? I'll probably have a poll on my profile at some point, (I'll tell you when I do) and you guys can answer there. Though I have a feeling many of you will be doing flip flops on her.**_

_**Also, a piece of advice to you all - Don't underestimate the minor characters. Even those who have not yet been introduced play a major role in this story.**_

* * *

"_Walls do fall."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

Moose was waiting for me when the nurse was done stitching up my hand. After escorting me back to the field, I was given a brief scolding by Ms. Briggs, who told me my punishment would be fighting with an injured hand. It stung like crazy, but I showed no weakness. I simply shrugged.

Carly had been training with Valerie and Missy in my absence, something that made my blood boil. They had her up against one of the stone walls, both grinning maliciously. I quickly intervened, shoving Valerie out of the way and disarming Missy in a few seconds before hauling Carly over to our training area. After listening to her lecture, we began to train under the watchful eyes of Freddie and Wendy. I pretended they weren't there.

Freddie was angry with me, but really, I didn't get him sometimes. He seemed to mainly focus on Carly, but when my blood spilled – the one time I really did _not_ want his attention – he freaked out and got all protective. I swear he's such a _girl._

After training was over, everyone put up their weapons and began to make their way down the path, all ready to call it a day. The soldiers marched beside them, their swords strapped to their sides.

The balcony was empty – Freddie had gone in about an hour ago, when it had turned seven. Wendy had gone down to the field to watch us finish training, probably under his orders. She stood by one of the stone walls, looking towards the sky that was a dark shade of blue; it wasn't quite night yet.

"Ms. Puckett, a word," Ms. Briggs said. Carly gave me a worried look, but I smiled at her, trying to assure her everything was alright. She bit her lip and hurried down the path, a soldier's hand on her arm.

I walked over to Ms. Briggs, giving her my most bored look. Besides us, Wendy, and a few spare guards, there wasn't anyone around. The lights burning around the field gave me an ominous feeling, as though I would soon burn with the pain they held. They hinted at tomorrow's ending.

Wendy noticed us, and I could tell she sensed something was awry. She came closer, not even bothering to be discreet. Ms. Briggs opened her mouth to speak, before realizing we were in company. "Leave, Wendy!" she barked. Wendy stood her ground.

"I've been given specific orders to stay here until all girls are safely in their rooms."

Ms. Brigg's turned as red as her hair, her fists balling up. "I said _leave!"_

Wendy winced, but still stood where she was, and I could feel the anger radiating off Ms. Briggs. I knew a slap to the face would be sure to follow her yells, and that was the last thing I wanted to witness.

"Wendy, go," I said. "I'll be there in a minute."

She looked at us unsurely, her eyes going back and forth for as few moments. Ms. Briggs continued to fume, and I could tell she was really about to let Wendy have it. I tilted my head in the direction of our quarters. She nodded quickly and set off, hurrying down the path before Ms. Briggs had the chance to do anything about her resistance.

"I'll deal with her later," Ms. Briggs told herself, before focusing back on me.

"Now I want you to listen and to listen good. I don't care who likes you or how close you are to the King – you can't behave the way you have been. Tomorrow better go off without a hitch – no plots, no running away. Because I assure you, you will be found and dealt with." Her voice was menacing, meant to intimidate me. She was in my face, her eyes angry.

"Trust me, _Ms. Briggs_," I said, taking a step forward to show I wasn't afraid, "Running away is the last thing I intend to do."

"Good," she said curtly. She took a step back, and I felt smug. She hadn't intimidated me – hadn't frightened me. She wouldn't break me. I was a stone wall.

I turned, ready to go back to my room. "Oh, and Sam?" Ms. Briggs asked, a sinister smile in her voice. I looked back just in time to see her pull out a small, charcoal remote.

Pain raced through me as she pushed one of the buttons, and I crumbled to the ground, falling onto my hands and knees. I let out a moan of pain, gritting my teeth.

"Remember who's in control here," she said, her eyes glinting evilly as she smiled. The electricity stopped, and I tried to breathe. In. Out. Better. In. Out. Breathe…

Moose and Logan each grabbed one of my arms and began to drag me back to the contestants' quarters. Rocks dug into my legs. I didn't have the energy to protest.

"The King can't save you now," Ms. Briggs said.

* * *

My vision spun in circles, the ground above me and the sky below me, trees seeming to wrap around me like a leafy straightjacket. I closed my eyes, trying to make it stop, trying to regain my bearings. My stomach churned.

I felt myself being pulled up, onto my feet, and I opened my eyes. The world around me had stopped spinning, an improvement, but my body still ached relentlessly. The guards shoved me, but I caught myself before I could hit the door. I slowly opened it.

I gripped the doorway with one hand, trying to make it to the bed without falling down. The guards glared at me from their posts, and I slowly made my way into the room. Carly and Wendy were talking on the bed. My servant friend seemed to be comforting Carly, who looked frazzled and worried, biting at her lips.

"Sam!" she exclaimed, standing up. "What did Ms. Briggs say? Are you okay?"

"It was nothing," I lied. "I'm really tired." I collapsed onto my bed, pulling the pillow over my head. I could hear them come to my side.

"We haven't even had dinner yet!" Carly said.

"I'm not hungry."

There was a gasp, and I felt a weight beside me. "What did she do?" Carly asked.

"Nothing," I grumbled.

I could feel Carly's eyes looking me over, and then I heard whispering. Finally, Carly spoke, and I could almost see her lips forming an O as it hit her. "She shocked you, didn't she? Didn't she?"

"No, Carly, no," I said, my pathetic attempt at keeping my dilemma a secret.

"She did! Oh God Sam, you look like someone tried to killed you!" Carly cried, and I could feel her lift up my arm and drop it, showing me how weak I was. I closed my eyes, moaning as my headache worsened.

"Just don't tell Freddie." I could hear Wendy take a breath as she began to protest. "But Sam, he'd want to know–"

I cut her off, my eyes opening; even _they_ hurt. "Exactly. You don't need to make him any more upset than he already is, K? Just let him think everything is perfectly fine…." I closed my eyes again, settling into the bed as I pulled on the blankets. "It's better for us all."

The silence told me that Wendy was either thinking it over, or slipping out the door. "Okay. I think I'll go get you some medicine to calm the pain – and your dinner."

Carly bid her goodbye, and once the door had closed, I felt Carly lying down beside me. I opened my eyes to see her.

"What happened when you went to the infirmary? Wendy said Freddie went to see you."

"Nothing happened."

"Something did."

I huffed. Why did she have to know _everything?_ Couldn't she just let some things be?

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Come on. Please, for me?"

_Damn her_, I thought, because even _I_ fell for that. My eyebrows scrunched up, showing my frustration, and I let out a small groan. "We fought."

"About…?" she asked.

"His… protectiveness." Protective seemed like too positive of a word, but there seemed no other way to put it. My relationship with Freddie was so janked up that I wasn't sure where we stood. Before he was taken away, we had hated each other (Hadn't we?), and now? One second he was hugging Carly while I stood in a corner, and then the next he was yelling at Ms. Briggs for shocking me, and looking for bandages and hugging me and telling me to run away and I… I didn't know how I felt about it.

(_Except that it made me angry and happy and I just wanted to hit him_.)

"He cares for you, Sam."

"Meh," was all I said. Her hands touched my shoulders, giving me a small shake. "He does!" she insisted.

"Okay, okay, geez. He cares for me."

"And you care for him," she hummed. I scoffed.

"You know you do. I mean, you had your lips all over him for two weeks–"

"Dude," I groaned, "So did you."

"That was two _days_."

"Well, it felt like two _months, _okay?" Carly's expression changed, and my head pounded violently. I groaned, burying my head into the pillow, closing my eyes. It was silent for a moment.

"I won't sleep well tonight," she said.

"I will." I opened one eye, smirking at her. She gave a tiny smile. It was good to be a comic relief sometimes.

She wrapped her arms around me, and I could smell sweat and apples on her. It was both pleasant and unpleasant, but her arms were so comforting that I didn't care.

I fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

I sat awake in bed, just staring out the window. It was what, one, two in the morning? I should've known, because every hour was an hour closer to bloodshed, an hour closer to the final heartbeat, an hour closer to death – her death.

_I should sleep. _

No. If I'd slept, I would've had nightmares about the next day. I would surely have them afterwards, when I had the real images in my head, but I still refused to sleep. Even on the off chance that I didn't have nightmares, I would still toss and turn and wake up every other hour.

Someone knocked on the door, and all I did was turn my head toward the sound. Wendy opened the door, balancing a silver tray on her hand. It held two cookies and two glasses of milk. I smiled.

"Thought we could both use these," she said, setting the tray down on the vanity that would soon be Carly's. She handed me a cookie, and I looked at it, wondering if it would stay down. I felt sick and worried, tired but restless. Never had I felt so unstrung, but tonight felt unreal anyway – like I was in one of those dreams where the atmosphere just wasn't quite right, like the hobo on the corner who used to mumble to the voices in his head.

Wendy looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and pity. "I wish I could do something more than bring you cookies," she said, her lips drooping. She made me think of a wilting flower, and it only added to my saddened concerns.

"You could take them cookies," I said, thinking that if they felt a little bit of happiness, I would too.

"Can't. Servants aren't allowed to visit them on the final night."

"You can't break the rules?" I asked, my eyes blinking sleepily.

"I would, but Ms. Briggs has three times as many guards as usual down there. Contestants have been known to try escaping on the last night, and considering who are the contestants… she decided it would be best not to take chances."

I felt my heart harden. I hated Ms. Briggs.

"What will happen after the arena?" I asked.

"The bodies will be taken… somewhere. The Queen will be whisked away to the palace, and so will you, in separate coaches. She'll be put in a secret room and they'll prepare her for the next day, which will be your wedding."

A wedding. In two days, I'd be a married man. It was such a shocking thought, yet I felt nothing. I was numb for the moment. The real pain would come tomorrow.

Wendy opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it, lowering her head. "What?" I asked. She breathed in, hesitating. She bowed her head, chickening out. "Nothing. Here, have some milk. It'll help you sleep." She held out a glass of milk for me, and I took it, even though I knew it wouldn't help. I handed it back to her once I was finished.

"Sleep, Freddie. You'll need it for tomorrow."

I decided it was easier not to protest, and laid down, pulling the covers up to my neck. She smiled at me. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I said airily. I closed my eyes, hearing her leave. I could still see her on the backs of my eyelids.

* * *

After a night of nightmares, I was anything but ready for the arena. As soon as I woke up – which was some time around six – I was rushed to get ready. I was showered and placed in the traditional outfit that was always worn. It was a bronze color, and had the silhouette of a bird on the front, painted silver. Silver gloves were places on my hands, my crown sitting gingerly on my head. I was briefed on the proper etiquette of the King during such an important event – no yelling, no cheering, no emotion. Only a pleased smile and polite clapping were allowed, and that was only when the last woman was standing. I wondered how I was supposed to show no emotion when girl after girl was slaughtered – one of them my best friend.

It was ten by the time I was ready, and the battle began at noon. I was thrown into a coach, assured that Wendy would already be there when I arrived. And with that, I was given an hour to mentally prepare myself for what was to come.

* * *

I stepped out of the coach, the light blinding me for a second. The sun was high in the sky, and reporters were held back by guards, all snapping pictures as I slowly walked into the arena.

Ms. Briggs was waiting for me once I got inside the hallway. The walls were made of stone, sand under my feet, torches lighting the inside. "Hello, my King," she greeted, curtseying. "We have half an hour until the battle begins. The arena is already full of people, and remember, this will be televised, so act like a King should."

I nodded. "All of the girls have their armor on – they'll be handed their weapons right before their doors open. Now, you are going to wish them all good luck. You get a minute with each girl."

My heart leapt at the idea of seeing Carly and Sam, but also plummeted into my stomach as the images of last night came back into my mind. Suddenly, I felt sick.

"Come with me. I'll lead you to the room."

She began to walk, and I forced my legs to move forward, my heavy boots making no sound in the soft sand underneath my feet. She led me to a small room with two wooden doors, one leading in and one leading out, to another hallway that led to the ten doors of the arena.

Almost immediately, the girls started coming in. I did my best to pull as many fake smiles as I could, murmuring words of encouragement as the girls came in. It became harder towards the end, when Valerie and then Missy came in. All I wanted to do was shove them both out of the room, but in my mind, they only a few minutes to live anyway, and as horrible as it sounds, that helped me get through it.

Finally, it was Carly's turn. She came in, and I immediately felt a bit of anger rise in me. The girls all had different types of armor, giving some more an advantage than others – a lot of skin showed on all of them, so there would be some sex appeal, and also so the battle wouldn't take all day, which I found unfair and frustrating.

Carly's bronze armor covered her chest and all of her arms, but exposed her stomach and the majority of her legs. The bottom half of her armor covered her like underwear would, two lines of plates going down her sides to connect the bottom and the top half. She had armored boots on too, but I thought about how that would weigh her down. She didn't even have a helmet! Was the government trying to keep her from winning?

The polls from the recent paper showed who the public was going to win, and who they wanted to win. Sam and a girl I didn't know were the top two of on the first poll (who they thought would win) and Carly and Missy were the two who they wanted to win. Sam came in third.

"Hey," I said, my eyes soft on hers. Her face was drained of all color, her hair in a long braid. She looked at me, and I could already tears staring to pool in her eyes.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

I took her hands in mine. "Don't be. You know Sam will protect you, and besides, I've seen you train – you're a lot better than you think you are."

"Freddie, I can't kill people. Even the ones I don't like– I just– I can't!" she said.

I could feel the seconds ticking away, and I tried to calm her quickly. "Carly," I said, pulling her closer, lifting her chin. "I believe in you. Sam believes in you. The nation wants you to win – you have them on your side."

"But what will happen afterward? Freddie, I can't– Sam–"

"Shh," I said, trying to calm her. There wasn't anything I could say to possibly make Sam's sacrifice seem like anything other than a tragedy. There were no comforting words for that. I knew Carly was going to shut down for a while. For a while, she would be as dead as Sam. And so would I.

There were pounding knocks on the door. "You're time is up!" Ms. Briggs called. I kissed Carly's hand. "See you soon," I said. She smiled, slipping out of my hands and out the door.

Now it was time for the hardest part.

Sam walked in, dressed in her armor. Her top half was covered, but only the front was armor – the sides were made of leather. A lot of her neck was exposed. The bottom was shaped sort of like a skirt, going down to her knees. She had only sandals. She had armor on her wrists, and had leather gloves – to help with her stitched-up hand, I assumed. A bronze helmet was on her head, cutting off in the middle of her forehead. Even though she technically had more vital places covered, Carly had more advantages than she did. And that angered me.

When I looked into her eyes, it all hit me at once – the pain. Soon enough, those eyes would close forever. She would be _gone_.

We stared at each other for a moment, and then, at the same time, grabbed each other – wrapped our arms around each other in a tight hug, all the anger and tension from the infirmary gone. We just held each other, her bony armor digging into me. I didn't care. I couldn't care. All I cared about was her and now. One of my hands tangled in her hair, the same that would soon be coated with blood. I buried my face into her neck, trying to fight back the tears and barely succeeding.

This was goodbye.

I could feel her hands, the warmth she radiated. She was strong, I knew, but having her locked in my embrace made me realize how much smaller she was than me – than most of the girls.

We pulled our heads back, and I was so tempted to say the words that I was afraid to speak, to put my heart on my sleeve. They begged me to be let loose, but the scared part of my mind told me not to distract her from her duties, from her noble end. But I was so tempted. Three words, three seconds. I'd said them before, but that had been different. Or had it? I knew I was losing her, just like I was now. Maybe I could show her some other way?

Her eyes were boring into mine, and I knew she was trying to analyze my jumbled thoughts. I still gripped her tightly.

"Sam, I–"

The door burst open, cutting me off. Ms. Briggs was staring at us.

"Your time is up," she said, her eyes dark as she saw that we were embraced. She didn't like Sam, not at all. I wanted to shield her from the women I had come to despise.

Sam detangled herself from me without a word, looking back at me as I saw a guard take her arm. Her eyes were tragic, filled with an unmistakable sadness. She was pulled away, and I felt my heart crumble. I hadn't said anything I needed to. And now I never would.

"Let me show you to your seat," Ms. Briggs said through gritted teeth.

* * *

_A tragic end awaits._

_You'll see it sooner if you review._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	14. Bring Out Your Monsters, Your Demons

**_...and Your Contestants_**

**_That's the full title; it wouldn't fit. :^P_**

**_And OH MY GOD, I'M DROWNING IN REVIEWS! Thank you all so much!_**

**_Here's what you've been waiting for._**

* * *

"_Brutality may win the battle, but cleverness wins the war."_

* * *

_Narrator's POV (That's me!)_

The sun was high in the sky, overlooking the arena. The sun beat down, making it unusually warm on the spring day. The arena, made of stone and brick, was baking in the afternoon sun, the audience yelling and betting and calling for blood. Because they needed a Queen.

Freddie stood at a special reserved spot, Wendy by his side. She wore a faded grey outfit, making her look drab in comparison to the King beside her. She had red blossoms in her hair, something that had been allowed to the servants only because it resembled the blood that pulsed through the contestants' veins.

There were ten doors – four on the north side, four on the south side, and one on the west and east sides. Two large screens were built atop the stadium, the image they held being broadcasted to those who had the stomach to watch; which was more than there should've been.

Two girls stood behind each door. Carly and Sam were at the west end. Sam thought about what Freddie almost said, wondered what would have happened if he finished. Shaking her head, she looked over to Carly, who looked nothing short of terrified. Sam reached out and squeezed Carly's hand, a sword occupying her other. Carly had a knife in her hand. Her heart beat a thousand miles a minute, her life already flashing before her eyes.

The announcer came on. "Ladies and Gentlemen… are you ready for your Queen to be chosen?"

The crowd roared, making Sam want to cringe.

"Then let me present to you… the contestants!" The large wooden door in front of them slowly rose. Their eyes had to adjust to the bright light. Carly and Sam looked at each other, then began to stalk forward, trying not to look intimidated. Sam held her head high, and Freddie could already feel his palms staring to sweat.

The girls met in the middle, all staring at each other as they all stood about two feet apart. The announcer's microphone had to be turned up so he could speak over the roar of the crowd, all screaming the contestants' names. Sam could hear her name being shouted from many mouths, and it didn't make her feel powerful. It made her feel sick.

"Now ladies, here are your rules. If you become the Queen, you must leave immediately after the battle is over. Also, a warning: if you are one of the last standing and you refuse to fight, lions will be sent out."

Some of the girls gave nods, but Sam only stared down Valerie, who was eyeing her evilly.

"Now, begin on three."

Carly's insides jumped. Her head almost spun, but she kept up a fierce glare.

"One."

Sam's grip tightened on her sword, her hand crying out in pain.

"Two."

Freddie leaned closer, his hands gripping the concrete so hard his knuckled turned white.

"Three!"

The girls set into motion. Sam jumped in front of Carly as the girl beside her tried to take the brunette out. Sam's instincts kicked in, and she swung her sword, making a large gash in the girl's stomach. Her insides toppled out, and Carly screeched in surprise and disgust. Sam felt sick, but now she had to leave behind her humanity and let the animal inside guide her.

Valerie and Missy corned a smaller girl, and made quick work of her, while the others girls fought each other. Within the first minute, three girls were dead.

The dark-skinned girl came at Carly, and Sam speared her leg. The girl cried out and fell, swiping at Sam with what looked to be ax. Sam jumped, but it nicked her leg. She cursed, then speared the girl in the side. The girl collapsed completely, and Sam yanked her sword out, trying not to remember the girl on the ground was a human being.

Sabrina made her way to attack Sam while she had her back turned. "Oh, no you don't!" Carly yelled, blocking Sam and throwing her knife at Sabrina. It hit her in the neck, and she yelped, pulling it out. Her neck was bleeding badly – It had gone deep, but not deep enough. Carly ducked, and Sam jumped out of the way, the spear in Sabrina's hands barely missing her. She could feel the wind off it.

Sam tossed the sword to Carly, picking the knife off the ground. Before Sabrina could turn, Sam had jumped on her back. She stuck the knife in as far as it would go, Sabrina howling with pain, trying to buck her off like a wild horse, before falling to the ground.

Another girl came at Carly, and Carly tried to fend her off, though she was not as good with a sword as Sam was – probably due to its weight. She swung, but missed. The girl laughed, and Carly backtracked. The mace in the girl's hand hit Carly in the side, a horrible blow. She shrieked for Sam's help, dropping the sword.

Sam forgot about Sabrina and jumped off her, getting closer to Carly's pursuer. "Hey Ugly!" she yelled. The girl turned just in time for the spear to plow into her exposed chest – a miraculous kill. The girl fell to the ground, gasping as she bled to death. Carly squeaked, running to Sam, who put her behind her back. She gave her the mace and kept the spear for herself, looking around with rabid eyes. Across the arena, someone finished off Sabrina.

Wendy's mouth was open – she'd known Sam was violent, but the brutality shocked her. In the last six minutes, she had single-handedly killed three people – more than anyone else.

Nine girls were dead, leaving eleven left to fight. Three of the girls charged at Carly and Sam, taking them by surprise. Sam stuck her spear in one and killed her instantly, but before she could take it out, another lunged for her, trying to slice her chest open with a knife. Sam put her hand in front of her face, the girl slicing open her gloves and arms. Sam cursed at her, flipping her over, snatching her knife, and cutting her neck. It happened in less than a minute, and Sam breathed heavily, trying to regain her breath. She snatched a sword from the ground.

"Sam!" Carly cried. Sam looked up, seeing that Carly was corned. She ran to help her, but before she got there, Missy took out her opponent, ultimately saving Carly. Carly turned, running while looking back, and when she finally looked forward, she was far away from Sam, and right in front of Valerie.

Valerie grinned at her, and within the blink of an eye, plunged her sword into Carly's stomach.

"NO!" Freddie yelled, so loud that people looked at him and the cameras zoomed in on his face, showing the horror so clearly written on it. "_CARLY_!" Sam screeched, panic coursing through her.

She ran as fast as she could to Carly. Valerie stood over her as Carly looked up in fear, the worst sort of pain taking half of her brain away from her. Valerie laughed, taking out the sword to plunge it in again. She raised her arm–

"_Hiyah!"_ Sam cried, swinging her sword as hard as she could. All she saw when she looked at Valerie was the tawny dummy back at the training field, although she felt the strongest sort of hatred as her arms swung out. With one clean swipe, Valerie's head rolled across the sand, her mouth still etched into a malicious smile.

The crowd gasped, some of the weaker ones fainting. A woman cried out, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Sam wondered if the woman had known the murderess. Some of the girls looked her way.

Sam completely forgot where she was or how death was just a heartbeat away, and dropped down to her knees. "Carly," she said, holding Carly up. Blood poured from Carly's stomach. She coughed. "Sam," she murmured.

"You're – You're going to live."

"No, I'm not."

Sam looked down at her, horror in her blue eyes, disbelief. How had it happened so fast? She was supposed to protect her, damn it! This couldn't happen! It couldn't!

_I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare. The arena is tomorrow, this is the night before. This can't be real._

"No!" Sam cried, her fist beating the ground.

"Win, Sam. Be Queen. Be Freddie's queen." Carly reached up and touched Sam's face, before her heart stopped, the last breath leaving her mouth in a rush of air. Her eyes closed.

* * *

"_I'm Carly."_

"_You're my bestfriend, Sam."_

_"You know I love you, right?"_

"_I'll always be here for you."_

* * *

Sam looked down, horrorstruck. One minute ago, Carly had been alive. _Alive._

Something inside Sam snapped.

"Sam, look out!" Freddie yelled. Wendy's eyes widened, and she quickly covered his mouth. Somewhere in the government's section, he could feel Ms. Briggs glaring at him.

Sam turned to see one of the girls standing above her, poised to attack. In the blink of an eye, Sam picked up Carly's mace and swung it backward. It connected with the girl's eye, gorging it. The girl, blonde haired with a pointy nose, cried out. Sam got to her feet, sword in hand, and went wild.

It went by in a blur. All she saw was red, her soul sucked out by the witch who'd ended Carly. After that, she mowed over the competition, killing two at once as they charged at her from both sides, and then proceeded to slaughter another girl a few moments after. Missy killed one, making she and Sam the only ones left. They circled each other, Sam's mind finally coming back to her.

Missy's armor covered her elbows, and half of her upper-body. Her breast plate curved so Sam could see the top of her chest, the armor stopping just above her stomach. She wore a helmet that curved around her face.

Missy laughed, mirth in her eyes. She was armed with a sword as well. "This was just how I hoped it would end," she said.

"I'd hoped I'd be the one to kill you, so it's a plus for me too," Sam spat, still circling.

"You know, you're a funny girl, Sam. King seems to have a liking for you. Though, the sad thing is, no one else does."

Sam growled. "At least I won't be the one who's six feet under!"

Sam swung at her, and Missy jumped out of the way, though Sam got her on her right leg. Missy hissed through her teeth, but then smiled, just like a cat who'd eaten a canary. "Oh, Sam, you have such a temper! I'd hate to be married to someone like you. I think I'll save the King some grief and do you in. How does that sound?"

"Lovely. There's just one problem."

"And what would that be?"

"You can't kill me if you're dead."

With that, Sam swung again, but this time she missed. She was tired and half crazy from the last fifteen minutes, and her reflexes had slowed. Missy had saved most of her energy, and was enjoying every second of it. She stuck her sword out, cutting Sam's arm. Her arms were already dripping blood, and now she had added yet another scar to her growing collection. Sam winced, gritting her teeth. She ducked, preventing Missy from beheading her. Sam kicked her stomach, sending her stumbling back.

She regained her balance. "Really, I'm doing everyone a favor. You, the King, the nation, the government. You don't even want to be Queen, remember?"

"Shut up!" Sam snarled, taking a step closer and her grip tightened on her sword.

"You wanted _Carly _to be Queen, right? Yeah, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You wanted to die a noble death – to protect your prissy little friend so that she could have the King – whom of which was also your 'best friend' before he was crowned. That's an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

Sam spat at her, swinging. Missy dodged, and began to circle her like a shark.

"Now, I'm not saying that you don't love him – 'cause I'm sure you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't have snuck out with Carly to see him."

Sam's eyes widened. _How did she know that?_

"Oh, you didn't think I knew? That's cute. Who do you think woke up the guards, hmm?"

"You bitch!" Sam yelled, lunging at her. She tried to stick her with her sword, but Missy simply moved out of the way. Sam fell to the ground, jumping to her feet immediately. The crowd watched with abrupt attention, not one person making a sound. They'd never had something like this happen before.

"Tsk tsk, such language! Gosh, how did the King manage to pretend he liked you? You're horrible! I think I would make a much better wife."

"Like Freddie would want you," Sam spat.

"I'm more desirable than you'll ever be. Freddie will _never_ love you!"

"That's it!" Sam yelled, her eyes seeming to turn. She thrust her sword forward, but Missy deflected her with her own. Their swords clashed, the sound of metal on metal making some of the viewers cringe. They pushed against each other, a test of strength. Sam pushed her backwards, but her reflexes had slowed to the point where she wasn't quick enough. Missy swung at her neck, and Sam leaned back. The sword missed her neck by a mere inch, coming much too close. It would surely be played back in slow-mo later.

Their swords clanged together again and again as they battled, but soon enough, Missy had the upper hand.

Missy knocked Sam back, so that she fell into the sand stomach-up. Before Sam could react, Missy had the sword to her throat. She grinned.

"You know, I honestly thought you would've put up more of a fight. You seem like a fighter. That's why I wanted to take you on. I let Valerie have Carly – we called dibs last night. It's good that you killed her really – she was a great partner; it would've been a shame to do it myself."

Sam breathed raggedly, scowling. She refused to show fear. Wendy covered her eyes, unable to watch. Freddie's heart was barely beating, just praying that it wouldn't happen. He couldn't think, all he could see was Sam, on the brink of being killed, and Missy, almost victorious – almost his wife.

"Valerie killed Carly. And now, I'm going to kill you."

She titled her head, smiling with mirth in those ferret eyes. "And Freddie will be mine."

Sam's blood boiled. If she could set someone on fire and slowly watch them burn, it would be her. Never had she felt such a deep hatred. Never had she felt so... _murderous._

"Any last words?" Missy asked, the tip of the blade against Sam's neck. An idea – one that could possibly save her life – came to Sam's mind, and she grinned.

"Yeah. Get her, Carly."

Missy gasped, whipping around, expecting to see the brunette – supposedly back from the dead – waiting behind her. But nothing was there – just empty air.

Angered by Sam's trickery, Missy turned to make an end of her – but Sam was too quick. She'd given her enough time to grab her sword and get to her feet. Before Missy could make a move, Sam stabbed her, sending the sword deep into her body. Missy choked, coughing blood. She fell to her knees, her eyes in that wide, dead stare. She was still alive, though. Just barely. She looked at Sam, the sun making her hair glow like a halo. Sam tilted her head, smiling that malicious smile that Missy had given her while messing with her head.

Sam leaned down, close enough to smell Missy's blood. "Shouldn't have said that last part." She delivered the final blow to Missy's neck. The girl crumpled to the ground – dead.

Sam stood straight, blood dripping from her dirty skin. She looked around, every screen in the nation on her, everyone looking at the holy demon that stood in the center of a bloody arena.

_"_Ladies and Gentlemen… Your _Queen_!" a voice boomed, drawing out the words to give them a special effect.

The arena burst into applause, everyone shouting her name.

* * *

_The tragic end - Carly's end._

_I guess we know what happened with the drinks..._

_I know it was all action, but there wasn't much time for thought._

_More chapters to come._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	15. Out of the Arena and Into the Lion's Den

_**Oh you guys, I'm sorry I've taken so long to update. I was on vacation, and didn't get on the internet all that much. I've also been caught up on Game of Thrones, so that's sort of taking up half my mind at the moment. **_

_**And thank you for so many reviews! I'm way past 200!**_

_**This chapter isn't much - the next will be better.**_

* * *

"_And in the end, there was no way to win."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

My hands were shaking. Sam stood in the middle of the arena, blood dripping from her arms and legs. Her face was the only thing that seemed untouched. Her eyes were emotionless, strong. She dropped the bloody sword at her feet, looking down at Missy's body. Somewhere underneath all the cheering, I could hear a few women crying. I wondered if she could too.

Her head turned, and I realized she was looking at me. One screen was on her face, and one was on mine. Her eyes were tragic, and I knew everything was starting to sink in. Because when I looked into Sam's eyes, I was looking into the Queen's eyes – the red bird's eyes.

My wife's eyes.

Sam looked away from me, to Carly. The guards were already coming out to get her, and I could tell this was not going to go well. She looked at them like they were monsters, growling as they came from all sides. There were more than they usually had; they probably thought she was dangerous. I knew that some people were looking at her like she was a monster – she'd just killed eleven people on her own. She glared at the guards, trying to get past them – to Carly's body.

_Carly's body._

I felt sick. Really sick. Looking at Carly's bloody body, I felt my stomach knot. She was as beautiful in death as she was in life, even with the wounds. Something in me broke, seeing her like that again. I hadn't really had time to process what had happened before; I was too busy shouting for Sam to survive.

The guards grabbed for her, and she hissed, backing up. One got her from behind, as did another. She kicked, cursing at them. I could tell she was tired and crazed. I wanted more than anything to help her.

I tried to leave, but guards blocked the exits to my reserved spot. "Let me through! I have to see her!" I commanded.

"You cannot see the Queen until the wedding."

_Wedding…. I'm going to be married to Sam._

"I don't care!" I pushed past the guard, knowing he wouldn't physically hurt me with so many watching. Many people squealed as I charged by, pushing past people to get to Sam.

"Freddie, no!" Wendy cried, slipping past the guard to retrieve me. She probably thought I'd lost my mind. The screens were off now, thankfully, but I saw reporters zooming in on me.

I ran down one of the stairways leading out of the arena, people pointing to me and Wendy as we ran. This had never happened before, I was sure – but then again, the King and Queen had never known each other, had never been close. The King had never been head-over-heels for the Queen before she was crowned.

I could finally see her struggling against the guards. Her hands were behind her back, and I realized she was cuffed. Sam kicked one of the guards – the blonde haired one that brought me here. "Sam!" I cried. She twisted her head, trying to see me.

"Freddie! Come back! This isn't allowed!" Wendy cried.

"Let me go!" she demanded, wriggling in the guards' grasp. One of them opened the coach door for her, and the guards practically threw her in, locking the door of the coach as soon as she was inside. I could hear her screaming, cursing at them from the inside. "Sam!"

The guards held me back, blocking my view. "You are not allowed to see her until the wedding!" one of them said. Two guards – the blonde and brunette – got on the front of the coach with the driver. "Wendy, go with her!" I yelled.

Wendy jumped. "But–"

"That's an order!" I yelled. One of the guards grabbed for Wendy, but she was too quick. She jumped onto the back of the coach where there was room for more guards if needed. The driver whipped the horses, and it jerked forward, speeding away. Sam kicked at the windows, still howling.

I stopped struggling, feeling I had done all I could. The press were still snapping pictures. I wanted nothing more than the snatch the cameras and break them into a million pieces.

* * *

I stared out the window, towards the gates I had become accustomed to watching. Everything was wrong – horribly, horribly wrong.

It felt as if a small part of me was gone, stolen from me by the invisible thief called death. Carly had been plucked from the arena. She wasn't ripped from the ground as Sam would've been – no, her death was almost peaceful. She hadn't struggled to stay alive, hadn't told Sam to help her.

"_Win, Sam. Be Queen. Be Freddie's queen." _

And now she was.

I closed my eyes, seeing Sam walk down the red carpet, to my throne. I felt her dancing with me, the pressure of her smooth lips in those three precious seconds. Somewhere, she was breathing, her heart beating like mine. Was she sleeping, dreaming of Carly? Was she crying? Did she need someone – someone like me?

I heard the soft _creek_ of the door opening, and turned around. My eyebrows were bent in concern, worry flooding through me.

"How is she?" I asked, before I could take in Wendy's appearance. Her uniform was ruffled, and she held one arm behind her back. She looked disturbed – upset. Dread dropped a rock in my stomach.

"They… They…."She shook her head. I grabbed her, shaking her.

"They what?" I asked. I was impatient, worried beyond belief.

She looked back up at me, her eyes brimming with tears. "They beat her!" she cried, before launching herself into my arms and breaking down. Her body shook with every sob, as she tried to explain through her tears.

"Wendy." She didn't stop. "Wendy."

She still sobbed. "Wendy!" I yelled, shaking her once again. "What did they do to her?"

She tried to catch her breath, taking short breaths. "She maimed Logan! And his partner just… went crazy!"

She shook, trying to blink back her tears. "Once they were at the palace, they opened the door and she…she pounced on Logan, the blonde guard that brought you here. She beat him black and blue, clawed his face and broke one of his fingers. She would've broken his arm, if Moose hadn't pulled her off. He held Sam down… slapped her…."

Anger pulsed through me, and I could feel my heart speed up, blood rushing to my face.

She took another gulp of air. "The nurse came and sedated Sam, so that she was too tired to fight. She could still feel – it didn't make her numb. The nurse told Moose that as she took Logan back to the infirmary.

"Moose carried her back to the bedroom she's temporarily staying in. He told me to stay outside, and when I questioned him, he raised his hand – as if he was going to hurt me. So I stayed outside. And no more than a minute later, I heard this awful sound – the sound of skin being hit."

She started to become hysterical again, tears falling down her face.

"I – I burst in the door, and she was tied to the bed, lying on her stomach. He'd taken her shirt off, and had hit her back with his belt. There was this horrible welt on her back –and she had cried out in pain." She shook her head, her voice raising an octave as she cried. "She couldn't even defend herself!"

"I begged him to stop, but he hit her again and again, leaving bruises and welts."

"What did she do?" I asked, horrorstruck. I could feel my limbs going numb.

Wendy's voice broke. "She cursed at him, and then… she cried. Cried for him to stop. Cried… cried for you."

"_Me?"_ I asked. My voice was barely above a whisper, so entranced with what she was telling me.

"She called for you to help her."

I stumbled back, my hand catching the table. I felt the corner of it tear into my skin, making a mark. Blood dripped from my hand.

"Freddie, your hand!" Wendy cried, rushing toward me. She reached for me, but I pushed her away. Then I noticed her arm.

"What happened?" I asked, horrified. She looked at it, the deep gash bloody and bruised.

"I finally got Moose to stop. But as soon as he finally settled down…. Logan came back in. And he had a weapon… a whip… from the dungeon."

_No._

"As soon as he saw her, he lashed her. She could hardly even scream! He whipped her once – twice – laughing. I threw myself in the way, trying to make him stop. He tried to lash my face, but I put my arm up. Then Ms. Briggs came in. She stopped it, sent the guards away. She yelled at them, telling them what would happen if the public knew they had beaten the Queen."

Wendy gave a disgusted look, anger sparking in her blue eyes. "She didn't even care about her! She was only worried about getting in trouble! She untied Sam and sent me away – told me to find the nurse. I came here instead."

"I have to find her! Where is she?" Wendy didn't say anything.

"Wendy!"

"I... I'm not supposed to tell you."

"What is wrong with you? She's hurt, and you can't even tell me where she is?" I shook her unhurt arm, and she winced, but remained silent.

"If they know that I told you, they'll do the same thing to me," she whispered. Then she shook her head, banishing away her cowardliness. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't move for a while after the last beating. She's in the west wing, though they've probably moved her by now."

I went to the door, my hand on the knob. My thoughts were conflicted – should I try to find Sam, or pretend like I didn't know?

"Finding her will complicate things, won't it?" I asked.

"Yes. It is best to pretend you are ignorant, because once you find her, they're not going to let you stay. And it could take you hours to simply find her – surely, they've moved her. But this is your call."

"What if she thinks I don't care about her, if I don't find her?"

"She'll think you didn't know."

"…maybe it's best if she thinks I don't know," I said, continuing, "She won't want me to know she was weak, or that she… _called for me_." The words seemed to choke me, and I longed to hold her. To tell her I was here, that I would protect her. It would be a lie, but not an intentional one.

Wendy looked at me, knowing what I said was true. No matter what I chose to do, it would be the wrong decision. Someone would get hurt either way. Sam would be hurt either way.

"What will they do to help her?" I asked, turning to look out the window again, away from the blue eyes that held the same conflicted emotions.

"The nurse will clean the wounds and give her antibiotics. Then she'll bandage her up and send her to bed."

"What will they do for her pain?"

I felt Wendy hesitate before she answered. "Nothing."

I spun around, outraged. "Nothing?"

"Well, nothing like she needs – they'll give her enough to keep her from screaming. The pain medication that she needs will just about knock her out, and given to her on a regular basis, will keep her drowsy and sluggish for days to come. They need her to look as alive and beautiful as possible for the wedding."

My hands clenched into fists, my nostrils flaring. Wendy took a small step forward.

"I know a guy who can get me some pain meds. I won't be able to get to her tonight, but when you return I'll dose her up. It's the least I can do considering…." She bent her head, ashamed. She obviously thought Sam's pain was her fault.

"Hey," I said, causing her to look at me. "It's not your fault. We're surrounded by bad people who do bad things. It's not like any of us asked to be here." She nodded, but I could see that my words had made no difference.

"Why don't you go see if the nurse can bandage your arm? I need some sleep for… the wedding." Wendy nodded, walking to the door. "Hey, Wendy?" She looked at me questioningly.

"Can you find a brightside for me?" I asked. Carly used to do that – whenever I was upset, she'd show me the silver lining.

Wendy thought for a moment, before answering. "You're being married to the girl you love." Without another word, she was out the door, leaving me to think of the brightside.

* * *

_Did Freddie make the right decision? Did Wendy really have pure intentions?_

_Your opinion is wanted._

_Review?_

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	16. Forced Crown, Forced Ring

_**Thanks for your reviews! **_

_**pancake2 - I'm glad you sense the great injustice here. And I looked up the song, and you're right - it does remind me of this story.**_

_** This chapter is much more interesting, and it might just have a twist...**_

_**I would like to dedicate this chapter to the Tumblr anons who send me love and questions on the story. You guys rock!**_

* * *

"_Is your coldness simply a cover-up, or am I the one to blame?"_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

I looked into the mirror, unsure of what to think of the man looking back at me. He had eyes like mine, dark and brown. He had a mouth like mine, though it frowned in an unpleasant way. And now he had a crown like mine, giving him a superior effect – making him reek of importance, of a title he did not want.

His appearance bothered me the most. He had on a dressy shirt, long-sleeved even in the warmth of the castle. Dark pants were tucked into his boots, tan makeup blotted out the circles under his eyes. He was dressed for a happy event, yet his face showed the deepest misery.

His face was my face. His fate was my fate.

"You look quite handsome," Wendy said from behind me. I saw her reflection in the mirror, noticing she actually had some makeup on. Her hair was pulled back into some sort of bun, and her eyes were shadowed in white makeup. Her uniform was made of looser fabric, and was light beige, sure to look bland in comparison to our guests.

"Thanks. You look nice." Her lips showed her happiness, as did the slight redness in her cheeks. Her features went back to their original positions as she surveyed the small room I was _(being held captive)_ was right outside the hallway that led into the back of the ballroom, where the wedding would be held. "How's Sam?" I asked.

"I haven't seen her yet, but Matilda says she hasn't spoken once."

The thought made my heart hurt, and I pushed myself over a bit, as if the motion would thin the pain.

"Wendy, tell me; what did the other Queen do? You know, before she _(was murdered)_ died?"

Wendy sat on a nearby chair, subconsciously smoothing her skirts as she tried to think back. "Not much. I wasn't that close to her, I just know that she spent most of her time in the Royal Bedroom, crying her eyes out…as comforting as that may sound."

"What did she like to do the most?" I asked, trying to banish the thought of Sam crying into a pillow.

"She liked visiting the garden. Whenever the King was in a particularly good mood, or felt especially sorry for her, he'd take her to the garden and sit on a bench with her, often picking her a flower or two to take back inside."

I'd been hoping what she told me would make me feel better, but instead it hurt me more. Would Sam be like that? Would the government break her? Was she already broken?

So many questions, but not enough honest people to answer.

"What do you think I can do to help Sam?"

There was a moment of silence for my dying hopes, and I watched Wendy get up and walk towards me. Her face was solemn, her reflection giving me no indication as to what she was thinking. Finally, she spoke.

"Make her feel loved."

Suddenly, the door opened, making both Wendy and I jump. There was Ms. Briggs, dressed in a light green dress that didn't flatter her body at all. Her nostrils flared when she saw our lack of personal space.

"You – leave!" she commanded, her words slapping Wendy across her freckled cheeks. She bent her head and rushed past her, out of the room. I scowled at Ms. Briggs as she closed the door. "Hello, my highness," she greeted. I resisted the urge to snort at her falsetto tone.

"What do you want?" I growled, fixing the front of my shirt.

Her fake smile faltered, the ends of her mouth falling. "I came to give you a quick walkthrough of the wedding. It will be quite short."

"Then get on with it. I just want to see Sam," I said. I could tell she was trying to hold in all the foul words she wanted to shout at me, and it made me want to laugh at her.

"Ah, yes. Sam." She said her name with a distinct unpleasantness, and I squinted at her, daring her to say more. She cleared her throat, changing the subject.

"You will stand at the alter, which has been set up at the front of the ballroom. The Queen will walk down the aisle. You'll say your vows, exchange your rings, and you'll put her crown on her head. Then you'll kiss, and be whisked away to the coach for your long drive to your honeymoon spot."

"Fantastic," I muttered.

"I've also been given orders to inform you of something quite important."

There was a pause, as though she expected me to tell her to continue. When I remained silent, she did so. "The government would like the Queen to bear your child."

"A child?" I asked, caught off guard.

"Yes. A son. You see, we want to start a royal family. Your son would become King once you died, and he would be married to whoever won in the arena. They would have a son, and _he_ would be married to the winner of the arena."

"You… you can't force us to have children," I denied. My heart was trembling.

"Not children. A _child. _And no, we can't. It's your decision. But, just to let you know, if something were to happen to you, the Queen would be less likely to die of heartbreak if she had something of yours to hang onto."

_If you die, and you have a son, we won't kill her._

"What if we had two children?"

"The second child tends not to last long in a Kingdom such as this. The same could be said for daughters."

_You must have a son. One son. We kill anything else._

"Has Sam been notified of this?" I asked. No way would she ever agree to it. I didn't need to explain why.

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

Ms. Brigg's eyes danced with mirth, her evil heart laughing at me. Because she knew what she would say next would hurt me – she knew what it meant.

"Nothing. She said nothing at all."

_So if you die, she dies. Because even though you love her, she'll never love you. Not again._

She watched my face fall, my brown eyes drop to the floor, and I knew she felt satisfied with herself, because she gave me a grin, deviously delighted in my inner turmoil. "The wedding will start soon. Someone will come and get you when it is time."

With that said, she left, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts.

* * *

I looked around the ballroom – guests were dressed in extravagant clothing, pastel colors flooding my vision. Cameras were set up here and there, and I was once again reminded that the nation was watching. The place was draped in white, and it even looked a little pretty. Flowers decorated the chairs that had been set out, all cushioned and comfortable.

Along the front row were the seats reserved for family. I could see my mother next to Sam's, who was reciting a story about her youth in a loud, drunken slur. Melanie sat on the other side of her mother, and she waved at me and smiled, a lovely pink dress fitting her figure. On my mother's left side was my aunt, her hair plated, her gaudy makeup barely covering the rash on her chin. My cousin Stephanie sat in a chair beside her, her brown hair falling gently to her shoulders, bouncing as she kicked her little feet in boredom. She was what, five, six now? She looked at me and scowled, before her gaze switched to my crown, and she reached for it, her eyes shining. My aunt restrained her at the last minute, keeping her in her seat.

Mr. Howard stood a foot away from me, dressed in fancy attire just as everyone else was. I realized with a jolt that he was going to marry us, and I felt a little sicker. Along with the dread in my stomach, nervousness bubbled with it…and something else.

I caught a glimpse of red to my right, and almost jumped when Wendy appeared by my side. She stood on her tiptoes, whispering.

"The Queen looks beautiful."

She leaned back. My eyebrows bent slightly. She offered me a small smile, then took her place. Before Mr. Howard could question her, or the guests could contemplate exactly how close she'd gotten to my face, the music started up.

The guests turned in their seats, ready to see Sam. My heart was in my throat, and I thought I might choke on it. It thudded wildly, so nervous, so lovesick, so afraid.

The large doors opened, and there she was.

The guests gasped, and I could feel the air leave my body, my heart ceasing its infernal beating.

She began to walk forward, gracefully enough, but slowly, as if going faster would cause her too much pain. Her corset was laced tight, and I wondered how badly it hurt. Her lacey train dragged a few feet behind her. Diamonds were sewn into intricate designs around the top, and she had flowers woven into her curls. Her veil almost went down to the floor, pulled back so that everyone could see her face. Her eyes had been coated in light brown makeup, making her blue eyes seem larger and lighter in comparison. Tiny jewels were on the edges of her eyes, and her lashes seemed thicker. They'd done something to her lips to make them seem fuller, and her cheeks were rosy. She wore diamond earrings, and a necklace that bore the Kingdom's symbol. Red and white roses were in her hands. Her skin showed no sign of the carnage she had been through.

"Wow," I murmured, so awestruck that I'd forgotten it wasn't real. She wasn't in love with me. She was being forced into my arms.

As she walked closer, I could see the pain flitting over her eyes, the one indicator to how she was truly feeling. She didn't smile – didn't frown – her lips were trained to stay in a neutral position. She finally reached the alter, taking her place in front of me. She handed her flowers to Wendy, who smiled at her and stepped back graciously.

Mr. Howard began to speak, but I didn't hear a word he said. I only focused on Sam's eyes – large, warning me not to mess up. But then they changed, becoming a sad baby blue. I knew who she was thinking of.

"_I'm sorry," _I wanted to say. _"I'm sorry."_

After he was finished, we began our vows. I'd learned mine that morning, and surely she had too.

"I, Fredward Benson, take you, Samantha Puckett, to be my lawfully wedded wife and Queen, to have and told hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part."

I watched her throat move as she swallowed, saying her vows strongly. She wasn't smiling; there was no soft glow in her eyes; and she had no love in her voice.

"I, Samantha Puckett, take you, Fredward Benson, to be my lawfully wedded husband and King, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part."

The ring bearer came to us, holding up the rings on red pillow. I took hers, and she took mine. Everything was so surreal, I felt as though I was in a dream. How was this happening?

Mr. Howard began to speak again. "The wedding ring is a symbol of eternity – like our birds, they represent the King and Queen's love for each other. It is a sign of two hearts united in endless love. And now as a token of your love and of your deep desire to be forever united in heart and soul, you, Freddie, may place a ring on the finger of your bride and Queen."

"Sam, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you. With it, comes my protection." I took her delicate hand in mine, noticing how soft her skin was, and slid the diamond ring onto her finger.

"By the same token Sam, you may place a ring on the finger of your groom and King," Mr. Howard said.

I watched Sam take a breath, her chest barely moving through the thick fabric of her dress.

"Freddie, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness to you. With it, comes my affection."

She placed the ring on my hand, our eyes locking as she did.

Then came the crown bearer. He smiled toothily at us both, raising his little arms towards us. I almost wanted to smile. Sam eyed him, her expression unchanging. She turned back to me, and I gently took off her veil, handing it to Wendy. My hand brushed her cheek, and she looked toward me, her eyes looking at me through dark eyelashes. _"Save face," _I wanted to say.

I took the crown – Sam's crown – off of the pillow, holding it carefully in my hands. I didn't want to put it on her. I felt like I was poisoning her, sentencing her to life in prison. The crown would be her ball and chain just as it was mine. She bent her head, closing her eyes. I brushed the hair out of her face, before gently placing the tiara on her head, sliding it into her hair.

"Sam, I give you this crown as a symbol of your royalty – of your importance to not only me, but to the nation. It shows your sacrifice, all in the name of love. I put it on your head because you deserve it, and because I love you."

She looked up at me, her eyes wider than before. She hadn't expected the last part. "My Queen," I murmured. For a moment I was transfixed, hypnotized by her eyes, staring at me with so many mixed feelings. I was holding her hands in mine now, my eyes soft on hers, Wendy's words echoing in my head. _"Make her feel loved."_

No problem there.

Mr. Howard cleared his throat, breaking us from our spell. "Do you, Fredward Benson, take Samantha Puckett to be your wife and Queen?"

"I do," I answered, not once looking away from her. When I blinked, I saw Carly standing before me, blood pouring from the hole in her stomach, her eyes fixed in that almost-dead stare. But once I blinked again, Sam was standing in front of me again, tragically beautiful.

"And do you, Samantha Puckett, take Fredward Benson to be your husband and King?"

"I do," she said, her voice not once wavering.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the Queen."

Her eyes changed as I brought her closer, my hand finding her cheek as I looked deeply into them. My thumb rubbed against her cheek, and she stared at me, expecting, waiting, knowing. Her eyes were ice. I understood. If she was warm, they would melt, and now was not the time. Everyone was leaning forward, their breath in their throats as they watched. Not a soul moved.

I captured her in a sweet kiss, and for a moment, I wasn't in the ballroom. I was in a place where everything was okay, where I had no thoughts or bad memories. My heart beat faster, feeling nothing but the warmth of her soft lips.

I pulled away from her, my eyes holding seriousness as I opened them. All around us, the crowd cheered, whistles and loud clapping hurting my ears. I could hear my mother's obnoxious crying from the front row, and Melanie's loud, girly cheers. In the back of my mind, I wondered if she would be allowed to visit.

Somewhere in my mind, I could hear a gavel bang. _"Court adjourned." _

The large doors opened for us, and I could see Ms. Brigg's beckoning to us from the back of the ballroom. Sam looked at me questioningly. I grabbed her hand and pulled her along, my grip on it tight, unwilling to let go.

I felt I was going too fast for her, and I tried to slow my pace. I pulled her from the alter, down the path between the seats. Our guests were standing, clapping for us still. As we passed the front row, I could hear my mother cry out.

"Take good care of him, Sam!" she sobbed. Sam looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

Melanie was still cheering, and through the din I could hear Sam's mom talking to someone in the row behind her. "That's my daughter. She's the Queen! Can't beat that, can ya?"

The guests were a blur as I pulled her out of the ballroom, into another large room with different staircases. Ms. Briggs looked us over. Sam was breathing heavily, and I felt guilty knowing that I'd strained her. I pulled her a little closer to me, trying to protect her from Ms. Brigg's evil stare. I couldn't have my bride turn to stone.

"If anything, you looked eager. I'll speak to you more on proper etiquette once you have returned. Come. We must get you to the coach." She turned on her heel, going to one of the doors and disappearing through it. I leaned closer to Sam.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Her lips pulled back into a scowl. "What do you think?" she snapped.

My eyes darkened. "Let's go." I pulled on her hand, following after Ms. Briggs. I didn't speak to Sam; I didn't feel the need to now. My heart ached, and in the back of my mind I wondered if she blamed me for all of this.

Two hallways later, we reached a door to the outside. The night air was damp and moist from the rain earlier that morning, and the fog made everything seem blurry. It was colder than it should have been. Sam bumped into me, and I caught her other arm so she wouldn't make an abrupt appointment with the ground.

"Hurry up, lovebirds," Ms. Briggs rushed, a few feet in front of us.

"I hate her," Sam muttered under her breath.

"Don't worry, she hates you too." I cursed myself as soon as I realized what I'd said. The last thing I needed to do was put even more distance between me and Sam. We were miles apart, and if I kept it up, we'd be on different sides of the world.

It wasn't like she loved me, anyway.

We finally made our way to the coach. I looked around, still clutching Sam's hand. "Where's Wendy?" I asked.

"She won't be coming," Ms. Briggs said, smiling as she did. "You two will be all alone at your secluded honeymoon spot. Well, with the exception of a few guards for your protection."

Sam and I both glared at her. "Where will it be?" she asked.

"It's a _surprise._ Now get in." She wretched open the door. I helped Sam up, ignoring the withering glare she gave to me, and got in myself. We slid into opposite seats, staring at each other. I heard the lock turn.

Sam and I stared at each other, neither saying one word. Her eyes were cold, hard, accusing. They asked me, _"How could you let this happen?"_

But beneath the question she asked me was the question she asked herself. _"How could _I _let this happen?"_

_So, what did you think of this royal wedding? And what did you think about the unexpected news?_

_Review. The more I get, the faster I update._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	17. The Bloody Truth

_**Thanks for the reviews!**_

_**You guys, Sam does not HAVE to have an heir. She would just be safer if she did.**_

**_I'm going on vacation tomorrow, and I won't update for at least two weeks, but I'll get a lot of chapters written for quick and easy updates!_**

_**Song for this chapter – Seven Devils – Florence + The Machine.**_

* * *

"_Just when I do something right, everything falls apart again."_

* * *

The coach came to an abrupt halt.

My head bumped against the inside of the coach, but the stop made my reflexes kick in; I reached for Sam, grabbing hold of her to assure she was alright. Her hands clenched the seats, her head whipping towards the door. The edge of her dress brushed against me as I held onto her arm. She looked at my hand, then at me, as if she might've caught some disease by touching me. I let go of her.

The only light in the coach came from the small wire window opposite from the door. It had to be almost midnight, though I had expected the trip to be longer. A bad feeling began to spread throughout me.

There was the sound of low talking somewhere outside the coach, and a loud thud. Both Sam and I jumped. She looked at me, alarmed.

I leaned toward the door, trying to hear. There were more loud plops. I could hear a man's voice asking a question, to which Ms. Briggs answered.

"They're a bit reserved. From what I observed, there is a lot of tension between them. They'll warm up… eventually. We can't control what happens at their honeymoon, but afterward… they'll be forced to play nice."

I realized she was talking about us, and I snuck a glance at Sam. She looked disgusted at what she had heard, and leaned back in her seat. For a moment I wondered if it was to put distance between us.

There was a sharp command, and the coach door was yanked open. There stood Moose and Logan – Sam's abusers.

A low hissing sound escaped Sam's mouth, and she glared at them. I noticed how she moved back a little.

They eyed us, squinting. I'd subconsciously moved in front of Sam, blocking her from the guards. A strange sense of déjà vu came over me.

They stood back, and I understood what they wanted. I began to move toward the ground–

A hand grabbed my arm. I looked towards Sam, who looked confused at her own actions. She didn't let go. She didn't want me to go.

I smiled softly at her. _It's okay,_ my eyes told her. Her hand slid off me.

I offered my hand to her. She cautiously slipped her hand into mine, her soft palm pressing tenderly again my own. We stepped off the coach together.

_Squish._ Sam and I looked down to see that our shoes were half-sunken in mud. Sam made a face, and I watched as she pulled her dainty white heel out of the muck. The bottom of her dress was already dirtied.

We looked at each other for a moment. Her eyes glowed beneath the moonlight, sparkling like the stars that were surely hiding in the darkest depths of their time. Like her.

We turned our heads to look forward, and I felt my breath hitch. Graves and mausoleums lay just a few feet from where we stood, half-hidden by the thick fog. Sam gasped, her grip tightening on my hand, making my heart speed up.

"We're honeymooning at a graveyard?" she asked, shifting closer to me as the wind blew. The temperature had changed drastically, and now it was uncomfortably chilly.

The fog swirled around us, and in the moonlight, I was able to see the cemetery sign. It read, "Εδώ έγκειται η ήττα".

"What kind of language is that?" Sam asked, her hand leaving mine. I frowned at the loss of her touch.

"I think it's Greek," I said. The phrase seemed familiar. I'd seen it somewhere before… in a History book….

It hit me. "Here lies the defeated."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Here lies the defeated. It was in the History book. I… I know what this place is now." The women were in the mausoleums, the men in the ground. The years and names were written across the front of each one, all buried together. We first learned about it in ninth grade.

Sam's eyes questioned me. "Don't you understand?" I asked, my voice a decimal higher. I gripped her shoulders.

"The men who lost to me. The women who lost to you. Those who lost to the kings and queens before us. They're… buried here."

Sam's breath shown in the air as her eyes filled with realization. "Carly."

"We haven't got all day, you two."

Ms. Brigg's voice made us jump. Through the fog I could see the outline of a man and woman. "Come, now. We must start the ceremony."

"What ceremony?" Sam asked, taking large, angry steps toward them. I followed quickly behind, noticing how her dress dragged in the mud.

"Why the Blood Ceremony, of course. All kings and queens must do it. It's an oath they must take."

Ms. Briggs and Mr. Howard stood on a platform, both dressed in dark cloaks. A large statue of a crying angel towered over them. My thoughts drifted to Carly, but I quickly snapped myself out of it. There was too much pain.

"Blood?" Sam asked in a distrusting tone. I was by her side in seconds, every danger sense in my head screaming shrill warnings.

"I'll explain," Mr. Howard said, stepping forward. "You must both shed blood, just like those who have for you–"

"For us? For _us?"_ Sam asked, her temper already flaring. "No. For _you._ We didn't put these people in coffins. You did."

"Sam," I warned, my hand wrapping around her arm. She looked at me fiercely, and I looked at her just the same, my eyebrows raised in that scolding way. Even if what she said was true, it shouldn't be said. She was making things harder on herself.

"Actually, you put many of those women in coffins, your highness. Eleven, I think."

"Shut up!" Sam snarled, trying to lash out. I pulled her back. "Easy." I put a hand on her back, hoping it would comfort her. I pulled it away abruptly, noticing the way she tried to hide her wince.

"Listen, children. This is important," Mr. Howard said.

"We're not children," Sam hissed.

He chose to ignore her. "You will both be cut. Your wounds will be connected, and you will say an oath. Then you will proceed on to your honeymoon. But remember, you must never speak of this, or this place. Only the government shall know, for it has always been this way."

"This is stupid!" Sam yelled.

"You shouldn't speak your mind; it will only cause you pain!" Ms. Briggs shouted back.

"There's no bracelet on me now! I can always use you as a practice dummy!"

Ms. Brigg's recoiled. "Don't you dare speak to your adviser that way!" Mr. Howard yelled, his face becoming red.

"Or what? You'll throw me in the dungeon?"

"You can be punished! You _will_ be punished!"

"Leave her alone!" I yelled, stepping in front of Sam. Both Mr. Howard and Ms. Briggs looked at me with shock.

Ms. Briggs eyed me before giving an approving nod. "There's hope for you yet."

She continued. "Eventually you will learn who is in power. We shall not have any more outbursts like these, or there will be consequences."

She pulled out a knife. Sam and I jerked back, my arm coming out in front of her. She gave me a threatening glare. Our advisors exchanged knowing glances. My blood pressure rose.

"Now, put out your wrists." She forced a smile. Neither of us moved.

"We shouldn't have to do this," I said.

"But you do. Put out your wrists and stand in front of each other."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Let's just get this over with. Mama wants to sleep."

She moved so that she was parallel to me, her eyes locking with mine. She put out her wrist.

_I don't want them to hurt you anymore._

I frowned, but put my wrist out as well. "Good," Ms. Brigg's said. She took my wrist in her hand, raised the knife and–

Pain seared through my arm, and I jerked back. A red line smiled across my wrist.

Ms. Briggs took Sam's wrist. I wanted to push her away, but all I could do was hold my hand out, blood dripping like the angel's tears. She slowly slit Sam's wrist, taking her time. Sam winced.

She took our wrists and pressed them against each other so that they made an X. Sam bit her lip, trying not to show weakness. I could feel her blood sliding down my wrist, stinging as it mixed with mine.

"Repeat after me," Mr. Howard said. "As our blood mixes, it bounds us to each other and to the government."

"As our blood mixes, it bounds us to each other and to the government."

"We are both apart of the kingdom and will protect each other, our kingdom, and our government."

Sam took a sharp breath. I watched blood trickle down her arm. "We are both apart of the kingdom, and will protect each other, our kingdom, and our government."

His voice held little emotion. "We forever owe our allegiance to the government, and to our fathers, who founded our government."

Sam's voice was bitter as we repeated it, her eyes cursing them, damning them. "We promise to represent the government as the birds on the Kindgom's symbol, to speak kindly of it, and to forever be apart of it."

We repeated it back to him, lovebirds turned to mockingbirds. "We promise to represent the government as the birds on the Kindgom's symbol, to speak kindly of it, and to forever be apart of it."

Finally, the last sentence – the worst – came. "If we break our blood vow, we hope to die."

I swallowed hard. "If we break our blood vow, we hope to die."

"Very good," Ms. Briggs praised, giving a curt nod. She pulled white cloth from her cloak and handed us each one. "Tie it on your wrists. We don't want to get blood in the coach."

"The precious coach," Sam muttered. The officials scowled.

"Go on. Back to the coach," Mr. Howard commanded. I barely got the cloth tied around my wrist before the guards were there, pushing us forward. They'd been hiding in the fog.

One of them shoved Sam, and she barely contained her cry. I turned on my heels so fast it gave me whiplash, shoving him back. He was my height and size, but the resemblance stopped there. "Don't. Push. Her." My voice was deadly and low. The guard kept a straight face. "My apologies, your highness," he said.

Sam had stopped and was watching me, deadpanned. "You don't have to prove your manliness, you know. We all think you're a nub," she said as we walked back toward the coach, her hands still fumbling with the cloth.

I scowled at her. "Sorry for helping, Samantha."

"Don't call me that," she hissed, her nails digging into my arm. I tried to control my anger – I'd been having too many flares, and she was the last person I needed to flip out on.

_She's tired. She's in pain. She's a little scared. _

I had to repeat that to myself all the way to the coach. I didn't want her to reject my help. I didn't want her to scowl at me because I cared. She didn't have to be appreciative. I didn't want a thanks. I just wanted to help her.

_Touch her. Hold her. Kiss her. Love her._

I helped her into the coach. I could tell her back was hurting her by the sharp intake of breath she took as she bent over, and I felt powerless. I slid into the seat opposite of her, eyebrows bent in concern. She didn't notice.

Ms. Brigg's smiled at me as she and Mr. Howard bid us goodbye. "Have a nice night," Mr. Howard said. Ms. Brigg's winked at me.

The guards shut the door in our scowling faces.

* * *

Sam spent a few minutes fumbling with the cloth. Her eyebrows were bent in concentration, her teeth biting the edge of her lips. It killed me how I found that attractive, how cute she seemed to me. Finally, after listening to a few curses and grumbles, I leaned forward.

"Here, I can get it," I offered. She yanked her hand away, scowling.

I could feel my face becoming red, and I just spit out my thoughts. "Damn it, Sam! Will you just let me help you?"

"I don't need your help," she said.

"You've been trying to get it on your wrist for the last ten minutes. Your bleeding all over the place, pissing yourself off more, just let me do it! Why are you making everything harder than it already is?" Sam quieted, and I could tell I had gotten to her.

"Fine." Her voice was cold. She held the cloth out to me, and put her bleeding wrist forward.

_Why do I have to yell at you for you to hear me?_

I took it gently in my hand, inspecting the cuts from the glass sculpture that still plagued her hand. I carefully wrapped the cloth around her wrist, tying it neatly. "There," I said, leaning back.

There was a moment of silence. I watched her, leaning back in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest in defense.

I rubbed my face with my hands, knowing I had upset her. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you, I just–"

"I get it," she said, cutting me off.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. There was no Carly to be peacemaker now, no Carly to ease the tension, no Carly to say, _"Be nice, Sam."_ There was no Carly.

I felt a special pain on the back of my eyes, and I blinked furiously. Now was not the time.

Sam was still looking away from me, and I noticed how smooth and flawless her arms seemed. "What happened to the cuts on your arms?" I asked. She turned her head to look at me, and pulled on the skin of her arm.

I watched in horror as she pulled her skin off like a sleeve, but then I realized that _it was_ a sleeve. She slipped it off like it was nothing, revealing the skin underneath – battered, bruised, parts of it almost cut down to the bone. I gaped.

"They made me wear them. They told me they're gonna talk a while to heal, and even then I'll have scars, which will be treated and blah, blah, blah…." She rolled her hand, signaling that it went on forever. I frowned.

"Are there more?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. _Of course, dumbass. Remember, her back? Have you forgotten?_

She rolled her eyes at me. "Yes. I'm completely covered and in so much pain, oh help me King Freddie," she said sarcastically. It made me feel better and worse – better, because at least now we were talking and she was acting her version of normal; worse, because underneath the layers of sarcasm was truth, cold, hard truth, and it weakened me.

"Well, _Queen Sam_, at least there's someone here to help you."

She snorted. "Who, Wendy?"

"No, Ms. Briggs."

Sam gave a humorless laugh. "Yeah. We're the best of friends, aren't we?"

I actually smiled, because it felt like old times – before we were royal and married and mentally disturbed.

"She hates everyone, Sam. Sort of like you," I teased.

"I don't hate everyone." For a moment, I actually thought she might compliment me, but then she smirked. "I like Wendy, after all."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Yeah, Wendy's cool."

"How cool?" Sam asked, a little accusation in her voice. I raised my eyebrow at her. She looked startled, and covered up what she just said. "I haven't been around her too much."

"She snuck you and Carly out to come see me," I said, raising an eyebrow. She huffed.

"Just tell me what I don't know. We might as well talk – it's gonna be a while before we get off this damn thing. So tell me, why do you like her?" Her tone was snippy, as if I'd said something she didn't want to talk about.

"I don't know. Several reasons, I guess. Starting with, she reminds me a lot of you."

"Me?"

"Well yeah," I said, becoming more comfortable and confident with what I was saying. "She's sneaky. She can get stuff done. She's real; she tells me how it is. In a few ways, she's tough. And… I don't know, something about the way she looks at me… the way her eyes…" I grasped at thin air, trying to explain it. Sam raised an eyebrow at me, almost amused, also interested. She pretended like she didn't care, but I could see past it.

"I don't know how to explain it. It's just that she makes a lot of the same expressions you do, but at the same time they're different. Her eyes are missing something, something that yours have…." I said, trying to figure it out myself. I'd know what it was before; it was on the tip of my tongue; but I just couldn't place it.

Sam didn't have a mask on now. She was leaning forward now, her eyes full of curiosity. She was almost child-like, the look of anticipation on her face.

Finally, the word came to me. "Depth. They lack depth."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at me, her head tilting just the slightest bit to the left. "Meaning…?

"Your eyes are deeper than hers." Sam looked down a little, her lips twitching. Her cheeks reddened the slightest bit. I realized what I'd said, and how that had come across, and I mentally kicked myself. Well, at least I was taking Wendy's advice, although unintentionally.

Maybe not. She probably just thought I was an idiot.

"Well, it's official. You have just gone from 'dork' to 'King of the nubs'. Congrats, Benson." She leaned forward and patted me on the shoulder.

_I'm the king of a lot of things these days. _

"You blushed," I teased, trying to gain the upperhand. Sam scoffed, though she knew she was caught.

"Sam Puckett does not blush!"

I could feel my mouth curling into a smirk. I knew I probably shouldn't say it, but I couldn't help myself. "Well, technically you're Sam Benson now, so…"

Sam's mouth dropped, gaping a bit. She recovered quickly. "Out of the two of us, you're the Mrs."

"Then why are you wearing the dress?" Sam's head moved back a bit, and she looked angered, shocked, and impressed all at once.

"Because you wouldn't fit into it." I snorted and let her have that one. There was a pause, and she played with the edge of the seat. I broke the silence. "What do _you_ like about Wendy?" I asked.

"I don't know… she's okay, I guess."

I scoffed. "Come on, Sam. I know you like her at least a little bit. It's okay to admit that you do. I just want to know why."

Sam seemed hesitant. I nudged her with my foot, giving her a little smile. "Come on, please? For your King?"

I hadn't meant to say 'your', but she either ignored it or didn't think much of it. She still wasn't looking at me. She smiled a little at my plea, I noticed, and for some reason I flashbacked to our first kiss, which led me to think of our second, and how much I wanted to kiss her now.

"I like her because she went out of her way to help me. Even though she was ordered to, she didn't have to. Not really. She seemed like she cared for me, maybe even more than she did…" she trailed off, shaking her head. I knew what she wanted to say.

"Yeah?" I encouraged. She looked at me, her eyes deep with emotion – beautiful, sorrow-filled. She didn't like talking about how she felt, especially about other people. I was just thrilled she was actually opening up to me. Sam Puckett – no, Sam _Benson_ – opening up to me! Me! Her– her–

_Husband._

"Yeah. And because she knows when to fight and when not to – unlike me; I fight any chance I get. And because she tells me things I need to know. Because she– she–"

"She what?" I asked.

"She gets me. And you. I know she does. She gets everything. And I like her."

I smiled. "Good, because she's going to be serving us for a very, very long time."

Sam blinked, and I realized how close we were. While she was speaking, we'd both leaned forward, and there were only inches separating us. She seemed to acknowledge it too, but she didn't pull away.

"You never finished telling me why you liked her," she said. I leaned back, almost afraid that if I was too close to her, I would do something regretful.

Without thinking, I told her. "She reminds me of Carly, too."

I snapped my mouth shut as the atmosphere around us shifted violently. It was as if I had invited a dark cloud into the coach with us. Sam's face fell, and even though I could only see her through the moonlight, I swore her lip trembled.

Why? Why did I mention Carly? Why did I make her remember? God, why did I make _myself_ remember? It was like our banter was vodka, preoccupying our minds and taking over our senses. I could feel her move closer to her seat. A weight had been dropped into my heart, and hers too. She brushed against her seat, and I could hear her emit a short gasp of pain.

We passed by trees, and I could barely see her with only a fourth of the moonlight leaking through our window. "Sam, I–"

"I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when we get there." She leaned against her seat, half-laying down, and BAM. Just like that, she shut down, and I was shut out. Left in the dark. No more truth. No more banter. Just silence. Only silence.

And things were going so well.

* * *

_I have all things planned out. _

_Pain and Passion fill our future chapters in a very Katniss-y way._

_Can you feel the heartbreak?_

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	18. Lover Is Childlike

_**I spent another week on vacation. Sorry for the wait.**_

_**It brings me great sadness to tell you that I will not update quite so frequently. Life keeps getting in the way of my writing.**_

_**This is the longest chapter yet. Enjoy the Seddiness.**_

_**Song for this chapter: Lover Is Childlike - Low Anthem**_

* * *

_"My heart screamed for you, but you never heard a word."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

We slowly came to a stop. It had been about an hour and a half, and Sam was curled up on her side of the coach, dozing. All I'd done since the silence took over was watch her, occasionally brushing a strand of hair from her face. But that had been when the coach was moving, and now we were immobile.

The whole time she'd slept, I'd reminded myself _don't mention Carly._ It hurt too much. And right now I wanted everything to be as easy as possible. We would talk about her eventually. We would cry. We would scream. But now was not the time. I had to get Sam adjusted. Chiz,_ I_ had to get adjusted.

Focus on Sam now. Mourn Carly later.

I closed my eyes, feeling that burning sensation in my nose. I'd cried most of last night. No, it isn't manly to cry. But I don't care. I'm sure I cried more than I slept, hoping that I got it all out. But no. Just the thought of her sent me into the darkest depths of sorrow.

Focus on Sam now.

I could hear footsteps, and I knew the guards would yank the door open and either a) scare the shit out of Sam, b) piss her off, or c), manage to do both. So I gently tried to wake her.

"Sam." No movement. "Sam."

My voice softened. I gently nudged her, rubbing her shoulder. "Sam, you need to get up. We're here."

She groaned, stirring, but not awaking fully. "Sam." I tugged lightly on her arms, bringing her up. She opened her eyes, squinting at me through her lids. "Freddie?"

"Hey," I said softly.

"Why are you in here? What's tangled in my hair? Where's Carly…?" I tilted my head, looking at her. She blinked, rubbing her eyes. Suddenly, she gave a cry of pain.

"My back hurts…oh… it really hurts… Freddie?" she asked. God, I didn't know what to say. She was so confused, her eyes wide with _(could it be?)_ innocence. Had sleeping really thrown her off this much?

The crown began to slide off her head, loose from her hair. She raised one hand to stop it from falling off. "A crown." She stared at me. "My crown." Slowly, her senses were coming back. "I'm Queen," she said.

"Yes, you are."

"It wasn't a dream," she murmured. Before I could say anything, the door had been wretched open.

God, it was cold. Violently cold. I shivered. It had to be below freezing.

There were different guards here. Logan and Moose were no where to be seen. "You are here," one announced. Sam's hands latched onto my arm and I pulled her down with me. A shiver wracked her frame, and she moved closer to me. "Why is it so cold?" she asked me. I looked at the guard.

He cleared his throat. "We are very far North – so far, that we are not even in America anymore, your highnesses."

"Why?"

"Privacy. This way." He showed us down a path. We walked slowly, Sam barely moving. She bit her lip, her eyes filled with pain. I stopped, adjusting us so that my arm was around her and I was doing most of the work. She tried to glare at me, but almost couldn't. I tried to get us there a little faster. Finally, a cabin came into view. It wasn't large at all – quite small, with a porch that covered the front half. A large lake was on my left side – I could barely see it through the fog, but it was there. After a few more agonizing yards, we were on the porch. A new guard stood by the door, others spread out along the borders of our honeymoon spot. I looked him over. He was a tan, well-built man.

"All things you need are inside. Clothes, food, everything. All medication is in the bathroom. I am here if you need anything else." He held the door for us.

"Thanks," I said quickly.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Sam collapsed.

I caught her before she hit the ground.

"Sam!" I cried out, alarmed. She groaned, then sucked in a sharp breath, almost biting her lip off. She shivered – it was as cold in the cabin as it was outside, maybe even worse.

"Hurts," she muttered. She cursed. "Shit! Hurts. Hurts." Her eyes were watering, and she blinked back the tears.

"Tell me what to do!" I panicked, clutching her. She gasped in pain. The small meds they'd given her must've worn off.

"Bathroom... shot. In the bathroom. Pills. Now."

"Okay, okay, let me find somewhere to put you."

I set her down gently on the couch, rushing to the bathroom. On the counter was a syringe already filled with medicine, pills, and a note.

_Fast-acting._ _Inject shot into right arm twice every day. Give two pills and ONLY two pills every five hours, four hours after injection. Take with water._

"Freddie!" Sam half-yelled, her voice breaking a bit. I panicked more. "Coming!"

I picked up the syringe, figuring it would be best to start with that. I hurried into the living room (which was also the kitchen and bedroom, I noticed.) and knelt down by the couch. Sam had slid down from her sitting position, her head resting against the arm, one of her hands gripping the fabric. "Freddie," she whimpered, turning her head to see me.

"Here, this'll make it stop. Just give me your arm." I took it in my hands. Mom was a nurse, so she had taught me a thing or two about how to give shots, but that didn't mean I felt entirely comfortable giving her one. In my panic, I forgot to prep her arm. Slowly, I stuck the needle into her skin. She sucked in another sharp breath, her eyes welling with pain. I slowly pushed down on it, watching the medicine slowly drain from the syringe. She was beyond tense, and slowly she closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. I ran my hand along the top of her hair, brushing it back, trying to offer some sort of comfort. I hated seeing Sam weak and in pain almost as much as she hated feeling that way.

"Sam?" I asked softly, still stroking her hair. Her breathing was still shallow.

"Give me a second," she snapped, though not loudly. I sighed. "I'm gonna throw away the syringe." I went to stand up, but I felt a hand come down on my arm, yanking me back down to the ground. Her eyes were still closed.

"Or not," I said, teeming on the brink of amusement and annoyance. I just sat there and watched her breathing return to normal, her hand still gripping my arm. I studied her face, inspecting every beautiful feature. I wondered if she could feel me staring.

I almost thought she'd fallen asleep, but then she looked at me, blinking those blue eyes at me. "Hey," I whispered.

Her features were soft and relaxed. "Nub."

"You need me to get anything for you?"

"Just throw away the stupid shot. While you do that, I'm going to look for some food. And blankets." She began to sit up, but I put my hand on her stomach, stopping her.

"I can do that."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Freddie, really. I'm fine now. My battle wounds just got a little dirty, K? It wasn't that bad."

"Sam, you were cr–" She glared at me, stopping me from finishing my sentence. I sighed.

"Just don't strain yourself, okay?" I said, running a hand through my hair. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

I took my hand of her stomach and she slowly sat up, looking at me. "Well move, Fredly."

I stood up, then offered her my hand. She rolled her eyes and took it, muttering something that sounded like 'nub' under her breath. At least she was taking my hand now.

Though she kept balancing between trusting and untrusting, switching so fast it gave me whiplash.

I went into the bathroom, getting the pills before putting them back. I re-read the directions and groaned – we only had four hours to sleep before she was in pain again. I went back into the main room, looking around.

In front of me was the living room, containing an old fashioned couch that was uncomfortable to lay on and a chair that just as bad. In front of the couch was another sturdy, wooden coffee table that had two pillows on it, for our crowns. A thick rug sat underneath the furniture, stretching all the way to the fireplace that contained no wood. On the fireplace was a tapestry with the Kingdom's symbol.

A wall jutted out beside the front door, about seven feet long, if that. It still left often the bedroom. You could see the bed from the bathroom, which had the only door in the house. It was all I could see from where I stood, but I could tell it was made of wood (like everything else). It looked comfortable enough.

On my right side was what was considered to be the kitchen; a few sturdy, polished cabinets, a fridge, and a sink. There was a wooden table with nice, hand-carved chairs that went to it as well, but in the end there wasn't much.

Sam was rummaging through the cabinets, sitting with her legs spread open, like a little kid playing with blocks. Her dress was hiked up, and her feet were bare. I realized she'd kicked off her muddy heels, which were laying abandoned several feet away from each other. I could see a few wounds on her legs, and almost wanted to cringe for her.

I began to take off my shoes. She looked toward me, frustrated. "They have nothing Freddie, nothing! No junk food! And not a single piece of meat! How am I supposed to survive on all the rabbit food they have in there?" She pointed to the refrigerator, like everything was its fault. "No knives. Not even a fork! All they have are spoons, and really, what am I going to eat with a spoon?"

"Soup?" I asked, coming to sit next to her. She groaned. "Yeah, because that's satisfying!" she said sarcastically, whacking me. Ow. She was grumpy when she was hungry. _And tired. And married to me._

God, _married._ I looked at the ring on her finger, and the one on mine. I wanted to scowl and smile at the same time.

I was losing it already.

"Aren't you tired by now, anyway?" I asked. She sighed. "Yeah. But I'm hungry too." She shivered. "And cold. God, why is it freezing?"

"I don't know. Want me to ask for some wood?"

She frowned. "No. I don't want to even open the door. Those guards have the ugliest faces I've seen. They're even worse than yours!" she exclaimed.

"Wow, thanks." She flicked my nose, then gave an exaggerated groan

"Ugh. Forget it, I'll eat tomorrow. Let's just go to bed."

"Fine by me," I said, standing up. She slowly rose to her feet. "There's a dresser in the bedroom." _Our bedroom._

"Yeah, about sleeping arrangements…." I drifted off.

"It's cool," she said nonchalantly. My heart skipped a beat.

"Really?" I almost sounded too eager.

"Yeah. You take the bed, I'll crash on the couch."

"Okay, if you're– wait, what?"

Sam looked at me with raised eyebrows. "I said, you get the bed, I get the couch."

I tried to make my confusion seem like something else. What was I thinking? There was no way Sam wanted to sleep in the same bed as me…bodies pressed close to each other as I held her, occasionally running my fingers through her hair as she allowed

me to taste those sweet lips….

"Freddie?" Sam said, waving her hand in front of my face. I blinked.

"Sorry, I spaced out."

"Man, you must be tired. You don't hear a word I say, and it's not like I'm quiet or anything."

"Why am I sleeping in the bed? You should sleep in the bed," I said suddenly. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shut up, Freddie. God, sometimes you're such a gentlemen it actually makes me want to throw up a little." _If you only knew how I thought of you at night…._

"Sam, come on. Just take the bed."

"No way. You're way too big to fit on that couch."

"I don't care. I know it's uncomfortable, and I don't want you sleeping there," I said blatantly. She shrugged. "Too bad, 'cause I am."

"But–"

"Nope. No buts. I'm Queen, I get what I want. And right now what I want is to change into some comfortable clothes and sleep."

She headed over to the dresser, shuffling through the first drawer. She wrinkled her nose. "Yours." She then proceeded by opening the next drawer. She made a sound of disgust.

"_This_ is what they left me to sleep in?" She held up a frilly white piece of lingerie. It was see-through, and would only cover a third of her most private parts, _if that._

God, I almost choked as my hormones surged through me, a nice mental image of her bending over in _that_ coming into my mind.

Damn. Control yourself, Benson.

"I don't think so!" She threw it back into the drawer, shutting it tight. "That's all they left?"

"Yup. And all they left for you were boxer shorts." I groaned.

"Maybe I can go ask the guard if–"

"No. They're not going to help us."

"They might," I said optimistically.

"Don't you get it?" she asked exasperatedly. Funny, I'd said the same thing to her earlier. "Think Freddie. No fire. Barely anything to wear. Nowhere else comfortable to sleep, the comment made before we left…what exactly does all of this suggest?"

I thought, before my eyes widened. I immediately felt stupid. "Oh. Oh!"

"The only thing missing is champagne," she muttered, before her mind switched subjects. "Now what do I sleep in?" she swept her hands over her dress, stained and filthy.

I yawned, blinking back the blurriness in my eyes. "Well, I guess you could always sleep in what they left you…."

Sam looked at me like I'd grown another head. "You _really _need to go to bed. You're not making sense."

_I'm making perfect sense. _But she didn't need to know that.

"We need to figure out what to do about you," I said.

"What are you doing? I know you don't want to wear that," she said, gesturing to the tight, dressy shirt and pants I wore.

"I just planned on sleeping in the boxers; I mean, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine." Tension hung between us.

"I'll figure out what to do about me. You go change," she said, going to the drawer. She opened the first and threw my boxers at me, hitting me square in the face.

"Ugh, Sam!" She laughed.

I rolled my eyes and went to change.

* * *

When I came out of the bathroom, dressed in boxers and my tight, dressy top, Sam was noisily searching the cabin for something. She was half-under the bed, her legs sticking out as she pulled herself out from underneath it. I set my crown on one of the pillows and went over to her.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"Something sharp." I bent my eyebrows in confusion as she slowly lifted to her knees. She gave me a strange look. "Why are you still wearing the shirt?"

I looked away, blushing. "Well… you see… I just… _you_… and…." Sam rolled her eyes. "You're a dork," she stated, making me want to scowl, but my cheeks only turned redder. Suddenly I felt her hands on my shirt. I looked at her.

Her eyes were lowered to my shirt as her fingers worked at the first button. I put my hands on hers. "Sam. What are you doing?"

She swallowed. "Well, you're obviously too big of a wimp to do it, so I'm going to have to."

"I don't see you stripping down to your underwear," I countered.

"It's different with me."

"How so?" I felt her free two buttons, her hands going to the third.

"Because you won't punch me if I see your chest."

I could feel heat rush to my cheeks. She just shook her head, half-way down my shirt. "If you would just let me have my way, you probably wouldn't blush as much."

"I'm not blushing!" Ooh, the tables had turned.

"Yeah, tell that to your face."

I scowled. She looked up at me and smirked. "Someone's pouting."

"I am not."

"Yeah, uh-huh. Sure."

I let out a frustrated sigh, barely resisting the urge to throw my hands in the air. I wasn't really a take-your-shirt off kind of guy, especially not in front of Sam, who made me feel so… ugh. Though, the teasing between us was familiar, and I liked it, even if it was to keep our minds off Carly.

Carly.

Why did I have to think of her?

And there it was, the burning in my nose and throat, the pain behind my eyes. My mouth began to twitch, and I tried desperately to think of something else. But before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my cheek.

Sam looked up, her eyes disbelieving. "Are you crying?" she asked. Her voice was incredulous. I turned away from her.

"So what if I am?" My voice was childish, defensive, a little cold. I was turning into her.

I expected to feel pain – for her to hit me, yell at me. I felt her move closer and closed my eyes, waiting for the blow.

It never came.

"Are you thinking about…?"

"Carly? Yeah."

I could see her out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders slumped like someone ashamed. "She… she should be here and not me."

"Don't say that!" I yelled, spinning around, glaring heavily at her. She jumped back, and I could tell she was utterly confused. For a moment, she'd let a little insecurity slip, and I had scared her. I sighed, reaching out for her and bringing her to me, hugging her. She tensed, but let me do as I wished.

"I'm sorry I'm like this. I just wish I could have both of you." I felt her sigh. "Let's just hold off on talking about her, okay? We're both so tired anyway; do we really need any more emotional turmoil?" I asked.

She shook her head, pulling back. Away. "What we need is sleep," she said softly. She popped the last two buttons of my shirt, her arms lifting to pull it completely off me. In moments, my chest was completely exposed to her. I shivered, freezing.

I felt her eyes rake over me and almost turned away again. Finally, she asked, "Do we have anything sharp?"

"Why do you need something sharp, anyway?" I grumbled. I was so tired. I just wanted to go to sleep….

"I need to cut some of my dress off." I shook my head. "No way. That thing must cost thousands of dollars. The government will be pissed at you."

She snorted. "The thing's caked with mud and covered in blood stains. I don't think they care that much."

"We don't have anything sharp anyway," I said. "No knives, remember?"

I felt my eyelids droop. Oh chiz, I was going to fall asleep standing up.

"Freddie," Sam said. I didn't respond. She hit me.

"Before you pass out on me, I need you to help me."

"What do I have to do?"

"Rip my dress off."

That jolted my mind, and sleep was put on the backburner. "W-what?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "I need you to help me rip off some of it, so it'll be more comfortable to sleep in."

She picked up a bit of the train. "I don't know if this is a good idea," I said.

"Just rip the damn train off," she said, turning around to grip the footboard of the bed. I swallowed, taking the lacy, dirty train in my hands. "Do it," she commanded.

In my head, I counted down. _"5…4…3…2…"_

I yanked on the train, my arms jerking back as a loud _RIIIIIIIP_ was heard. I looked at the fabric in my hands. Not only had I ripped off the train, but a lot of the back as well. I could see the back of Sam's knees, her legs slightly shaking from the shock and the cold. Bruises and cuts ran up her legs, racing each other to her thighs. A long gash started at the back of her leg and curved to cover skin on the front, out of my vision. She turned to me.

"Help me with the front too." The way she looked at me told me she'd felt my staring. She sat on the bed, her legs thrown over the side. The lump in my throat returned, now accompanied with a certain dryness that kept me from swallowing. I knew I'd have to be more careful with the front, to avoid ripping off more than I should. I'd almost revealed too much skin in the back, the fabric stopping mid-thigh, long enough to cover her underwear, but short enough for her to walk in.

I knelt down, tracing my fingers along the hem of the dress. One of her hands gripped the blanket on the bed, the other the footboard, as if she was afraid I would pull her off as well.

The fabric was thin and delicate, and I ripped off a small piece at first, revealing the skin just above her ankles. Sam seemed annoyed at my slow pace, but soon enough I had matched the front pretty evenly with the back. I could see the rest of the gash, along with many other wounds and imperfections. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers along them, feeling the need to familiarize myself with the new additions to her skin.

I remembered when we were dating, I'd wanted to do the same thing. Though we'd never gotten farther than our heavy make out sessions, I'd seen her in her underwear, and had learned her scars and birthmarks and everything that made her Sam. I knew that the scar underneath her knee was not from the arena, but from crawling through a broken window, and that if I were to push up what remained of her dress, that I would find a small, L-shaped birthmark on her upper thigh.

"Dude," Sam said, nudging me with my foot. I blinked, shaking my head. "Sorry."

"Loosen this thing," she said, her hand sweeping up her back. I sighed, crawling onto the bed and sitting behind her. "It's called a corset."

"It's sad that you know that."

I smiled, my hands moving to the back to undo part of the corset. My fingers brushed her skin as I pulled on the string, revealing a white cloth underneath. I knew what it was for.

"The stupid thing underneath was to make me look skinnier," Sam lied, here voice full of annoyance. I only shook my head, loosely retying the top of the corset.

I could tell she seemed a little unnerved at my lack of response. "Stupid," I muttered, not knowing what else to say. The corset, usually put on women to make them look skinny, fit her well. Giving her a false insult wouldn't do any good, and neither would an honest compliment. So that was all I said.

She let out a yawn, slumping a little. "Tired?" I asked.

"Mmhmm."

"Here, let me take off your necklace."

My hands slid to the small clasp, and I flicked it open, gently removing it. I set it on the bedside table. Then I sat her crown beside it. Sam shivered.

Slowly, I let my hands go to her hair, my fingers lacing in locks as I gently unraveled the flowers from her hair. I seemed to be relaxing her, because her shoulders slumped a little more, her head bowing.

"I need to go to bed," she slurred. I smirked. If I could get her to fall asleep, then she would have the bed and I would have the couch. Like it should've been.

"I won't take much longer, just a few more flowers…" I murmured close to her ear. I continued to remove flowers, one of my hands going to the back of her neck and gently massaging the piece of untouched skin. She purred.

"Mmm, Freddie… what are you…doing…?"

"Just rubbing off some dirt," I said softly.

"Dirt…?"

"Don't worry about it. Just _relax," _I breathed. I removed the last flower from her hair and gently began running my fingers through it, try to calm her. Her head lulled to the side, and she mumbled something unintelligible.

I felt her completely relax as I wrapped one of my arms around her waist, my other hand going down to pick up her leg. I brought it onto the bed, then the other, slowly setting her against the bed. She snuggled into the pillow, and I smiled. Victory was sweet.

I was sitting beside her, and I brushed the hair out of her face, gently running my fingers over her cheek. I could feel sleep calling for me, and I was so tempted to just snuggle into her and conk out. I longed to hold her, to tell her I was happy she was here, that I would already be dead if she was too. I wanted to finish saying what I had started before the arena. But I couldn't. Fear stopped me.

I slowly lifted myself from the bed, but as soon as my feet touched the floor, a blonde streak rushed by. Sam was awake and on her feet before I could even think. But she was weaker than normal, and I beat her there, lying uncomfortably on it. She stomped her foot.

"Get off that couch before I pull you off!" she demanded. I smiled at her. "You're too _(weak)_ tired. Just go sleep on the bed."

She tugged on my arm. And tugged. And tugged. I only looked at her.

She huffed, before giving one last tug. She lost her balance, falling backward. She gave a horrendous cry of pain, and I was on my feet in seconds.

"Sam!" I reached down to help her. "I'm sorry, I–"

She grinned, pulling me down to the floor, climbing over me, and taking her place on the couch. "You weren't hurt!"

"Always knew you were smart," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Sam, just take the bed!"

"Or what?"

"Or… Or I'll pull you off!"

She smirked. "Aren't you afraid you'll _hurt me?_" I cursed. She had me.

"You… you… you should've just taken the bed!"

She closed her eyes, and I could tell she was trying her best to look comfortable. "Oh, just go to sleep. You lost, I won. Suck it up and get to bed."

"You're impossible sometimes."

She stuck her tongue out at me.

I grudgingly trudged over to the bed, getting in and flicking off the light. I slipped beneath the covers, noticing how they were barely thick enough to keep me warm. I thought about how cold Sam would be, and closed my eyes, trying to banish the thoughts.

_She did it to herself._

I waited for sleep, but it didn't come. I wasn't shivering. I would even say that I was comfortable; not to mention exhausted. But still it didn't come, no matter how hard I tried.

The air was turning my face cold, and I was sure my cheeks were red. After what could've been minutes or an hour, I heard someone moving around. A light moan punctured the air, and I sat up, alarmed.

I heard something knock against something else, and then another moan. I got up, slowly making my way towards the couch.

In the darkness of the room, I could see Sam, shivering and moaning as she kicked at the sofa in her sleep. I looked towards the bed, knowing that she would sleep better there. Gently, I picked her up. Her skin was cold, her lips trembling.

I drifted over to the bed, slowly setting her down in the place I had once laid. She snuggled into the pillow like she had before, and I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't wake up and yell at me again. I pulled the blankets over her, and she grabbed onto the end of it, wrapping herself in the sheets. I smiled.

I looked wearily toward the sofa. No _way_ did I want to sleep there.

I looked towards Sam. Well, I could always….

_No. Not yet._

But my body didn't hear me. I moved toward the other side of the bed, lifting the blankets.

_What if she wakes up? You know she has problems with these things…._

I moved towards her, my arms wrapping themselves around her small frame.

_You better pray to God she doesn't wake up before you do._

Sensing my warmth, she snuggled into me, moaning a bit. Her shivering began to die down, before finally ceasing altogether, her head in the crook of my neck. I felt her bare skin against mine, and thought of how just two days ago, I thought I'd never experience the feeling again. I hugged her tighter.

"I'm glad that you're here with me," I whispered, closing my eyes.

I almost jumped out of my skin when she replied. "I'm glad you grew a pair and actually got into bed with me." My eyes snapped open. She smiled, blinking sleepily. Her eyes were lidded, her breathing slow, though mine were anything but.

"I–I thought… you…cold… sleep…." I stuttered.

She snuggled deeper into me, closing her eyes. "You should really learn how to finish your sentences. You sound like…" she breathed in, "…a little kid."

I waited a few seconds, just waiting to feel pain, just waiting to hear her raised voice. But all I felt was her hair tickling my cheek, and all I heard was her heartbeat, so I finally accepted that she actually _was _okay with this.

"I really am happy, you know."

"Oh really? I figured you wanted me to die," she said sarcastically, her mouth vibrating against me.

I scowled. "Not funny."

She didn't say anything, so I continued with what I was saying before. "Just remember that, okay?"

"God, yes, okay. You're glad I'm not dead, I can sleep at ease now. Now stop with all your sap or I'll put you on the couch."

"Fine, fine," I said, pulling her just a little bit closer. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight…Freddie…."

* * *

_Madness awaits in our future chapters._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	19. What's Staring Back At You

_**Thanks to all my beautiful readers for the reviews! I'm almost at three hundred!**  
_

_**When I first published this story, I thought it wasn't going to be very popular. I figured ten or twelve people might read a few chapters, but I never imagined this. Thank you and thank you to everyone who reads and reviews! You are all truly awesome!**_

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_**Or click the link on my profile. That works too.**_

* * *

_"I looked away because I didn't like what I saw."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

"Sam, wakeup. Come on princess, wake up."

_I'm far from that. _Still thick with sleep, I swatted at him and buried myself under layers of drowsiness. He'd leave me be; and if he didn't, he would have one less head to put a crown on. Nothing was going to interrupt me.

I was magically corrected. Moist lips pressed against my own, as alarming as any shrill cry or violent shake. I was up so quickly that our heads almost clashed. Freddie sat back on his hands, just _looking. _

"What was _that?"_ He looked at me as if _I_ was the one acting weird.

"What exactly is _that, _per say?" He smiled crookedly at me. I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. It was noticeably warmer in the small cabin, and I could hear a fire crackling somewhere nearby. I looked down – I no longer had on the torn wedding dress, but a comfortable red gown; it clung like fingers to my figure. The kiss bothered me more than anything.

"Want some champagne, doll?" he asked, offering me a glass. I blinked repeatedly. "Cut the crap, Benson. Tell me what–"

He cut me off with his lips, and I felt my knees weaken. There was no pain, only warmth. It was odd. His lips seemed foreign to me, almost as though I had not kissed him before. They held no taste,_ (Where was the cinnamon?)_ but I blamed that on the early morning. His hands were roaming over all the skin he could find, setting me ablaze. I was nothing but a stick doll in a fireplace. (Why) was he playing me? I could feel us sliding, and my confusion was melting… melting into something else.

I felt him smile against my lips before he pulled back slightly. I was on my back now, Freddie hovering over me. "Oh, Samantha…." he murmured, licking his lips. I was so entranced that I didn't chastise him for using my full name, only leaned up; my lips craved more.

Pounding knocks made me look to the door, and I shivered as a bad feeling overcame me. The air was sucked out of the room, and I was still – deathly still.

Before I could utter one word, the door sprang open. The fire _whooshed_, and my blood froze. I had been abandoned by all warmth. Moose and Logan stood before us, whips curled like snakes in their hands. Evil smiles were etched onto their faces, chilling me like winter wind.

"You deserve this," Moose hissed, his eyes changing before me. His pupils drowned out the white of his eyes. They took steps as slow and agonizing as a blood-drenched death.

Escape was my only option. I only desired to run back to the safe place where Freddie was. _How could it leave me so quickly? _

Ropes sprung from the bed, coiling around me with an iron grip. I screamed.

They inched closer to the bed, and I could hear muffled cries somewhere in the room. Someone had literally crept into a dark corner to cry, but who that person was, I didn't know. The short-of-breath woman could only be heard. She couldn't speak; she could only haunt.

Logan stood over me, raising his weapon of choice. He smirked at my helplessness.

"You let your friend die," he accused.

"No!" I denied, trying to block out his voice.

"You _wanted _her to die. You just couldn't _stand_ the thought of her being with Freddie, _could you, _Sam_?_"

"No! She's my bestfriend! I would never!"

"Then why is she dead?" he asked. His features shifted around on his face. Those eyes….

"I–!"

"LIAR!" He screamed. Suddenly, pain erupted below my chest. My stomach screamed red, blood rushing to drench the sheets. I howled as my stitched wounds reopened. Pain was becoming too familiar.

"You wanted him all to yourself! You wanted her to die! You wanted to be Queen! You killed her! You _killed _her!"

"No! I–"

"You were jealous!" Missy's accusatory voice joined his, and I saw she was standing beside the two bulky men.

"No!"

"You wanted to be Queen!" Ms. Briggs added viciously, having appeared before me.

"No!"

"How could you do it, Sam?" Freddie stood on the other side of my bed, his puppy eyes so unbearably hurt.

"I wouldn't do that! I would never hurt Carly!"

"Then why didn't you save her?"

_"I tried!"_

"Not hard enough," he said, his voice darker now. He turned away from me.

I strained against my rope. The pain was just as bad as ever, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see all the girls I had killed. They were laying dead against the wall, limp rag dolls.

"Freddie!" I yelled. Wendy had finally left the shadows to stand in front of him, Her eyes were so understanding, but it wasn't me she was looking at. She was eager, open. I realized what was happening. "No!" I yelled. He looked at me, his eyes dead and disappointed. "Please don't do it. _Please._ " He shook his head at me, and I knew I had lost. She stood on her tip-toes, leaning up to kiss him. He put his hands on her back, his lips soft against hers.

I heard something shatter, and blood began to pour from the exposed hole in my chest. I choked, trying to scream from all the pain. I had found my own special kind of hell.

"Sam. Sam. Sam, wake up!"

* * *

I gasped, sitting up so fast I couldn't see. My head knocked against something of the same hardness, and a sharp pang tore through my forehead. Freddie groaned, rubbing his head. I was shaking horribly, my lips trembling. He swore under his breath. His annoyance faded as his eyes focused on me. "Are you okay?" he asked. The dream's horrid images still stood in my mind, finally fading as I looked into his eyes. They no longer held hurt and betrayal, but concern and warmth.

"I'd be better if you didn't just give me a headache."

"That was _your _fault," he grumbled, rubbing his face. He looked aged somehow; almost like years had passed while we slept. "I meant to ask if you were okay before that."

I scoffed. "I'm fine."

He reached out and placed a calm hand on my arm. "You're shaking."

_Damn it_. "What do you expect? It's as cold as Ms. Brigg's heart in here."

Freddie shook his head at me, and began to pull the blankets up. I grabbed at one of the ends. "What are you doing?"

"You said you were cold. I'm fixing your problem."

He wrapped the blankets around me, and I clutched at them almost desperately. I wasn't that cold, but even if I had been, the sheets were paper thin; nothing could warm me faster than a pair of strong arms around me….

Freddie opened his mouth to say something. I sat straighter as the first syllable left his lips, but then–

_KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!_

It sounded as if someone had taken a hammer to the front door. I jumped back, the dream flashing into my mind. My hands clenched.

Freddie's eyes studied me, and slowly he rose to his feet. I could see goosebumps prickle his legs as he moved away from the warmth I harbored, towards the wooden door that gave no indication of what was on the other side.

An uneasiness crept into my stomach. "Freddie–" The plea died in my throat.

He looked at me, deep concern in his brown eyes._ It was a dream. _ I looked away_._ "Forget it."

He pulled the door open to reveal what waited on the other side.

A guard stood before him. He held an armful of clothes, but no smile. I noticed a lengthy gown and glowered at him. "Your advisor would like you to be dressed in a half an hour. You are to leave soon."

"What time is it?" Freddie asked, ignoring the guard's instructions. "Ten past six, Your Grace."

"Thank you." And with that, he shut the door in his face. It was smile-worthy, yet my face remained unchanged.

"A tight shirt for me, and a girly dress for you." He held out the dress for my inspection. It was a soft pink, delicate with a frilly trimming; in other words, hideous.

"The only thing I'd do with that is puke on it." There was a bite to my words, and it made me feel a bit better to sound so harsh; well, not better, but less fainthearted.

"Well, you can't wear _that._" He gestured to the tattered remains of my wedding dress. It had been uncomfortable and over-extravagant, but at least it was better than the pink catastrophe he was offering me.

"And who says I can't?" I stood, feeling stronger now that my height was more evenly matched with his. He would always be taller than me, and bigger than me too – but I could pack a punch for someone my size; and he knew that.

He didn't take the bait; instead, he answered with a question. "You want the guards to see you like this?"

"_You're _seeing me like this," I said pointedly. _Come on, bite. _The dream was forgotten for the time being; my mind was focused on making his blood pressure rise.

Though, there were other ways to do that….

_No. What am I thinking?_

"I've seen you in less." _Ooh, good answer. _His eyes told me that it was my turn to move one of the pieces on the board.

_What to do? _I could just walk away and we could pick up the game later. _Or…._

I stood on the tips of my toes, leaning forward so that my mouth was close to his ear. "But you've yet to see me in nothing." I watched his throat move as he swallowed hard, and took the dress from his hands. Then I turned on my heel and did a victory march to the bathroom.

* * *

I looked at myself in the mirror. I'd had some trouble getting the dress on, but after a few minutes I had finally gotten into it. It looked even worse on me than it did off. Though, the pink did compliment the red of my stitched wounds.

I surveyed the things on the counter. There were the pills, a hairbrush, two or three bottles of perfume, toothpaste, and two toothbrushes. I took a whiff of the perfume, wrinkling my nose. Really, who would wear this stuff?

I stared into the mirror again, almost wincing at the face looking back at me. Most of my makeup had come off during the night, and now the circles under my eyes were obvious, along with the bruise on my right cheekbone. I looked at my hands, at the line that cut through my palm. They were scarred. My whole body was scarred. _I _was scarred – inside and out.

My eyes fell to the floor, nudging at the bloodied remains of my dress with my foot. Yesterday had been almost as tragic as the day before. Seeing my family at the wedding, hearing Mrs. Benson's gross sobbing… it made me realize how real all of this was. It hardened my heart, made it gnarled and cold. And I could feel it. It hurt like hell.

I looked back into the mirror, inspecting the hardness in my eyes. My mood had soured after I'd thought of how badly I must've freaked out Freddie, and my train of thought had gone south. I shouldn't have been here. Carly was supposed to be standing here; _she _was supposed to be in Freddie's arms last night, not me. Never me.

_Freddie. _Freddie had been cheated. He was supposed to have Carly, sweet, beautiful Carly. She could make him feel better. She could make him happy in so many ways that I couldn't. I could only harden his heart, wrap my dirty hands around it and turn it into stone. He was supposed to have Carly. Not me. Not the monster in the mirror, scarred, cold _me. _He wasn't supposed to be married to a murderess.

The word made me nauseous. How many had I killed? I'd ripped the first girl's stomach out… speared the one after mercilessly… and then Sabrina… all the _blood…._

I put my hands on the sink, taking deep breaths. _The bad feelings are back. _ I'd beheaded someone. I could see her head roll across the sand in my mind – her eyes still open, her mouth still smiling.

I felt hot bile in my throat and had to swallow it down. Eleven. Eleven girls I had murdered. Eleven lives I had ended.

No. Twelve… if I counted Carly.

I stumbled back, feeling pain as I came in brief contact with the wall. I hadn't killed her. Valerie did.

"_No," _said the voices from the dream, hiding in the depths of my mind, coming to the surface to accuse me. _"You did. You lived. You didn't kill them soon enough. Those lives were wasted when she died. You killed her. You LET her die."_

My eyes were burning, my stomach threatening to spill onto the floor. I clutched at my hair, feeling light-headed. _"No. I didn't. I wanted her to win!"_

"_You wanted her to die."_

I looked at the mirror, and put my hand to my mouth when I didn't see my face. Carly's reflection stared back at me, her eyes wide. Blood dripped from her mouth.

I wanted to reach out, but I recoiled. I blinked rapidly, tears pooling in my eyes. Is this what happened when you killed people? When your best friend died?

When you went insane?

She disappeared, and I put both hands on the mirror, almost like it would conjure the image of her. I glared at my reflection, at my eyes, feeling nothing but disgust. Hatred. There was so much self-hatred.

I picked up one of the perfume bottles and chucked it at the mirror. Unwanted tears dripped down my face.

There was a horrific _crash_ as the mirror shattered. Shards fell into the sink, a few coming at me from the force sent. One hit my chest, and I tore it out, my hand and chest bleeding. It only added to the pain. I looked back at the place the mirror had been. Shards hung from the frame, allowing me to see a morphed, even more horrible version of myself. I slumped against the wall, nearly biting my lip off as I tried to stifle my sobs. I wanted to scream, not cry. Crying was for the weak, not for insane murderers such as myself.

"Sam!" Freddie's panicked voice came from somewhere outside. I let out a small sob, covering myself with my arms. I heard him pounding on the door, his voice raising an octave as he called my name again. I heard many rushed footsteps as the guards came swarming in, and another horrific, loud sound as the door was kicked in. I buried my face into my arms, sobs taking over.

"Sam!" I could feel Freddie's hands on me, and I jerked away, trying to hide myself from him.

"Sam? Are you hurt? Sam?" He tried to pull my hands away, but I only cried harder, shrinking. I shook my head furiously, though I could feel blood dripping down my chest.

"Oh God, you're bleeding." I felt another rough hand come down on me. "Don't touch her!" Freddie barked, and the hand was snatched away.

"Sam, say something. What happened?" he asked, trying to move my hands and finally succeeding. I hid my face again and he gave a frustrated sigh.

I heard more movement. "Back up! Go away! Go get help! She's _bleeding! _Your Queen is hurt! Go do something about it, damn it!"

I lifted my head once I heard him cuss, seeing guards retreat as they rushed to call someone for help. His arms wrapped around me, his hands trying to calm me. "Sam, tell me what's wrong. Please."

I tried to explain, but my words were too shaky, and I kept stuttering and choking up. The pain in my chest was killing me, and I remembered how my heart had been ripped out in the dream. A shattering sound, my wounded chest... it had come _true_. What if it wasn't over yet?

I thought of the whip, of all the dead girls, of Freddie and Wendy kissing. The memory made me panic. I flattened my back against the wall, trying to put some distance between us, but it was to no avail. Freddie was in my face, practically on top of me, asking what happened, how did it happen, was I okay, _was I okay? _I was shaking, my fingers wet with blood, panicked hands flailing and clutching. I tried to rasp a few words, nails scraping up and down my throat and chest and hands and it was all too much. First day as Queen, and I was already crumbling away.

I realized that a smaller piece of glass was very close to my throat, and I pulled on it, feeling a new wave of fresh pain. My eyes were bulging, and Freddie was screaming at the guards like a madman.

Freddie was at a loss for words. I could feel the blood on my chest, see it dripping off my hands. I reached out, my hand grasping the side of his face, smearing blood as I shook. "I killed her," I choked out. An odd feeling overcame me, and I felt myself slipping. Freddie was saying something, and there were feet pounding against the floor, but it all sounded so far away. I felt the front of my dress being ripped open, and then everything was black.

* * *

I felt myself moving, my body resting against something warm. Something was restraining me and outside my eyelids it was light. Calloused fingers drifted along my cheek, sneaking into my hair and playing there, soft, calm twirls. My comfort breathed, and slowly my bearings came back. My chest hurt, along with my head and back. The meltdown had left me drained, and now I was free to bask in the calm after the storm.

Yeah. Right.

I blinked, turning my head slightly as my eyes came into focus. Freddie's pupils dilated as he reacted to my awakening, his hand pausing. He gave me a crooked smile. Before I could react, I was out again.

* * *

I awoke in a large bedroom, dressed in a white, short chemise. I sat up with a start, the room spinning in crazy directions. I groaned, leaning back on my arms. Everything ached.

"I wondered when you would wake up." My head snapped around, my ears ringing with the upbeat voice. Wendy was sitting beside the overly large bed, her hands sitting daintily in her lap. "Want some water?"

_She stood on her tip-toes, leaning up to kiss him. He put his hands on her back, his lips soft against hers._

"Traitor!" I growled, back up now. Wendy was taken aback. "What?"

"You kissed him! You kissed Freddie!" How could they let her near me? She should be in the dungeons! She had committed a capitol offense; she could even have the death sentence! No, she _would _have the death sentence.

She reached for something on the table. "Now Sam, I'm going to give these pills to you, and I want you to take them."

"I'm not taking anything from you! You kissed him!"

"Sam, I didn't kiss Freddie."

"Yes you did!" I looked for something to grab, something to stab her with. I wanted to rip her heart out, have an alternate ending to the dream.

Wait.

_Dream?_

"No… no, you didn't." I looked at her, understanding. "You didn't."

I sighed, leaning back against the headboard. It was made of mahogany, beautifully polished. The bed posts were birds the size of my hand. The details were precise, the craftsmanship nothing short of perfection, but the sight of them made me a little nauseous. Or maybe that was a side effect of my mental breakdown, complete with empty accusations and gruesome hallucinations.

"Ugh, I'm a raving lunatic," I groaned. I wasn't going to explain. Why had I even cared?

_Crazy and confused. You live through the arena and this is how you turn out. Way to go, Puckett._

_No. Way to go, Benson._

"Where's Freddie?" I asked.

"Talking with Ms. Briggs. Against his will, I assure you. We practically had to drag him away from your bedside."

I snorted. "He probably thought I'd murder someone in his absence."

Wendy just shook her head. She held out a glass of water and some pills. "These are to help you heal, and to stifle your pain a little bit. They injected some in you earlier, but they wear off so quickly that it won't be long before you're in pain."

That was not a happy thought. "I don't need those things, I _need _morphine. I almost had a heart attack last night when they wore off."

"My thoughts exactly." She took a medicine bottle from one of the pockets in her uniform. "These will make your pain evaporate into thin air. They'll also make you very tired."

They were down my throat before I even knew that I'd taken them out of her hand.

She smiled, sitting back a little bit. "You want to explain what happened on your honeymoon?"

"Nothing that was supposed to," I said.

She sighed. "You really freaked Freddie out, you know. I was there when they brought you in – the long ride had calmed him, but you should've seen how worried he was. He stitched up your wounds, you know."

"I passed out after he ripped the front of my dress open." I smiled as another thought came to mind. "At least I can't wear that stupid thing again."

Wendy looked at me pointedly, her eyes asking me what she wanted to know.

"You want to know what happened," I stated.

"Freddie was confused and he couldn't tell me much. He said that the mirror was shattered, that you had glass in your skin, and that you were bleeding pretty badly."

I gingerly ran one on my fingers across the stitched gash, remembering how I'd smeared the blood all over his face. "That I was." She paused, considering if she should really tell Wendy the truth. She could tell Freddie. And she wasn't ready to tell him she was having hallucinations. Not yet.

"I chucked the perfume bottle at the mirror."

"And why is that?"

"Because it smelled like ass," I lied, smirking at her. There was no tell; I didn't have one. But she didn't believe me, I knew that. Besides, even it was true, it would prove me to be insane just as well.

_I should've thought of something better._

"I see. Do you want anything?"

"What's Freddie talking to Satan's grandma for?"

She smiled lightly. "About etiquette, I guess."

Her eyebrow twitched.

_Hmm. _She didn't want me to know what they spoke of. Fine.

I let it drop. I could slowly feel myself becoming more and more tired, my head swimming under seas of sleepiness. My eyelids were heavy. _No, _I thought, _what if I dream about the guards? …or the whippings?_

I looked at Wendy, remembering. She had _been there. _She'd seen me cry; watched me scream for Freddie, for someone to help, to _please help, please!_

I shivered even in the warmth of the royal bedroom, my hands clenching. That was something I did not wish to relive.

I studied her face. Surely, she told Freddie what he wanted to know. She was more loyal to him than me; she had good reason, I never did her any favors or saved her from an abuser, but she had _(tried to do that) _for me. Freddie had been her knight in shining armor; of course she would tell him everything.

"Wendy… did you tell Freddie about what happened?" I asked, looking at her through half-lidded eyes. Sleep was calling out to me like a ghost from a dream, and I wanted to hear her answer before I dozed off.

The flicker in her eyes told me I didn't need to specify. I saw the gauze tied around her arm, the faint outline of blood on the white cloth. It was the token she had received for attending me.

"No. I didn't feel it was my place."

"Good." I closed my eyes, missing any sort of tell she could've given me. I heard her shuffle as she rose to her feet. "I'll get you some more water."

Her footsteps were light and dainty, but they sounded tremendous on the floor. I heard the door creak open.

"Wendy."

There was a pause. "Yes?"

I opened one eye, looking dead at her.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

She shrugged. "Only if I thought it was best."

That was when I knew Wendy was an honest liar.

* * *

_Has Sam lost her marbles?_

_Will she ever realize her love for Freddie?_

_She may soon find competition standing in her new home._

_Soon, but later._

_Want an answer to these questions and riddles?_

_Then review. _

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	20. Moment of Yellow

_**What can I say, guys? I hit major writer's block in August (along with the stone wall called school), and then I busted my computer (It was knocked off the bed.) at the beginning of September. I've been getting on the internet via iPhone, but I have not been able to write in months. I am so, SO sorry for the wait. I've been writing ever since I got it back this afternoon, but don't think my updates will be consistent. I will update as often as I can.**_

_**iCarly is over, and it ended in a Creddie kiss. I'm not gonna lie. I sobbed. I don't think I'll ever get over it. To have Carly go behind Sam's back and kiss Freddie, and Freddie act like a douche and pump his fists in the air... ugh. I have a very long, drawn-out opinion of the episode, but there's the gist of my feelings on Carly and Freddie right now. **_

_**On that note, I want to let you know that MY Freddie is a little OOC, because I do not make him a complete douche bag. **_

_**I will be a Seddie shipper to the end. I am anxiously awaiting Sam and Cat, where the plot line continues.**_

_**Also, in much later chapters, there may be some... uh... heavy petting. And touching. And feeling. But this will remain a T even though parts might borderline M. **_

_**Enough of my blabber. On with the ceremonies!**_

* * *

"_I can't lose my grip on the edge of this cliff."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

For two weeks, we barely spoke at all. No, she wasn't avoiding me; no, we weren't angry with each other, and _no, _I didn't mention anything about our honeymoon or how badly she scared me. We just… didn't talk.

Sam spent most of her time in bed, and when she wasn't sleeping, she was bathing or eating. The pills Wendy had given her had kept her drowsy and slow, and she didn't like to talk when she was without her wits.

I pulled a chair to the edge of our bed and watched her sleep, almost afraid she would wake up and freak out again. Ms. Briggs urged me to wake her so she could start learning proper etiquette – she needed to know how to dance gracefully, how to eat politely, and how to serve tea and speak correctly. (Like that was going to happen.) She also insisted on me taking her to the garden, somewhere out in the open where the press could see us together. I denied her, insisting that Sam needed to sleep.

"She can't sleep her grief away, Your Grace," she'd said, her voice stern.

"She's Queen. She can do anything she damn well pleases." I'd left after that.

I was unsure how she'd feel about me sleeping next to her; she hadn't minded before, but lately I felt she was a little…unstable, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset her. I didn't mind sitting in the chair, even if it did make my back ache. I actually liked watching her sleep, as creepy as it made me feel sometimes. She was often peaceful, never scowling or whimpering, and it was nice.

Wendy said one of the pills Sam took would give her dreamless sleep. I wondered if she knew that.

I only slept when I was on the brink of exhaustion, and I never slept well or for a long period of time. Nightmares of that morning plagued me, though the alternate endings were the worst; those in which Sam died from her wound made me wake with tears in my eyes, and I would pledge not to sleep for the rest of the night.

Finally, sometime into the second week, Sam woke when I was passed out in the chair. She roused me by shaking my shoulder and pulled me into bed with her, saying something about what a nub I was and did I think she had some sort of contagion?

I slept much better after that.

And then, for a few days, it was peaceful. We slept and ate and slept and ate, not arguing about anything or feeling sadness for what had happened. We just relaxed.

But then Ms. Briggs woke us from our dream and returned us to harsh reality.

* * *

_Sam's POV_

I was awakened before dawn by the sound of panicked knocks on the door.

Freddie's arms tightened around me, his hand brushing my stomach as he groaned and pressed his face into my neck. I blinked back my haze, knowing it was too early to change the dressings on my back; besides, Wendy wouldn't have knocked anyway.

Before I could shake Freddie or scream at whoever it was to leave us be, a group of servants burst in.

"Your Excellence!" The fat woman cried, her team of quiet servants rushing in behind her. "We must dress you at once!"

"What's going on?" Freddie asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed.

"We must dress you both for your first day out!"

"We're going out?" I asked, dismay heavily lining my words.

"Yes, Your Grace. We must hurry! Your advisor wishes to speak with you and see you off!"

Before I could even get out a word of protest, a guard was in the room as well, pulling me from the bed not roughly. "You must dress, my Queen." He began to yank me toward the door.

"I don't have to dress if I don't want to!"

Servants were already pulling Freddie from the bed, grabbing his arms and ushering him towards the door as well. I strained against the guard, my back crying from the strain. He moved his hand (whether intentionally or not) to grip one of my scars, and I hissed in pain.

"We must go! The servants will attend to the King," Mary– Marnie– whatever her name was informed me.

I could hear Freddie's protests and commands as I was pulled from the room.

* * *

I was thrown into a tub and scrubbed until my skin was bright red and burning. Servants were tugging at my hair with combs and brushes, apologizing softly when I would curse or yell at them. Not once did any of them meet my eyes, no matter how many glares I gave them.

They toweled me dry while I demanded answers. The only one who talked was the M-named servant who kept rushing from my room to wherever Freddie was, tsking and hurrying her team. She kept wringing her hands, worrying. She began to make me anxious. Where was Freddie? Where were we going? What if this was all a trap? What if they're all just hallucinations?

I shook my head, water flying from my damp curls. An unusually pale child began to dry my hair. I eyed her; no one was above suspicion. The girl seemed unbothered. She looked at me shyly, running a silver comb through my hair. "You have such pretty color," she said slowly, holding up a curl as if to prove her point. I noticed many of her front teeth were missing. "Yanna! Do not bother the Queen!" The fat servant scolded.

"I wasn't being bothered," I snapped. The woman blanched. I almost smirked at the fear in her eyes.

"I– I am sorry if I offend, my Queen," she stuttered. The girl smiled.

The dressings were changed on my back as my hair finally bounced back from the bath. Once the cloth was wrapped around me again, a dress was brought out. The servants held it up for me, and I reached out to touch it.

The fabric was soft on my fingers. It was a thin dress, pale yellow in color. "Pure cashmere," the plump servant informed me. I barely heard her. _Carly used to have a dress this color, _I thought. Something moved out of the corner of my eye.

Suddenly, I felt dizzy. I knew that if I turned I would see something that was there, but not there. My eyes closed, and I gripped the shoulder of the child servant, trying to keep my balance. I couldn't fall to pieces. Not now.

"She doesn't look well, Matilda," one of the servants said. I could feel the anxiety coming off of her, almost like it was a wind.

"I'm fine," I denied. I looked down at the little girl, who was staring at me as if I just murdered her mother. I realized how tight my grip was and slowly released her, feeling disgust rise in my throat.

"Put it on me," I ordered. The servants did as they were bid.

* * *

I stood in the room, alone with the witch and her monkeys. Ms. Briggs glowered at me from behind her mahogany desk, her hands joined as she attempted to turn me into stone. I looked at myself in the mirror that was hanging over her head. My makeup was well done. There was a light blush in my cheeks, my lips were stained sweet pea pink, and my eyes looked big and blue. I looked innocent, unscathed. It made me sick. Underneath the dress, the makeup, and the skin-tight sleeves, the arena still lurked. They could never change that.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, tired of waiting. Ms. Briggs rose to her feet.

"You're having a day out. The press needs to see you together, and I am tired of waiting on you to get your act together."

I scowled, but said nothing. The medicine was slowly wearing off, and a dull ache was spreading throughout me like gray wings. I could stand it, though. It was nowhere near as painful as it had been before.

"I need to brief you both on proper etiquette. Because the servants are taking their time with the king, I will go ahead and start with you."

"Why are they taking so long?" I questioned.

"Perhaps they want to admire his body," she quipped. My fist clenched. _Control, Sam. Control. _

She smirked at my temper and began to speak. "You will be spending your day at the park. You need to be kind. Gentle. Kiss him. Laugh. Show that you are hopelessly in love."

"But we aren't _in love!_" I protested. Couldn't we just walk around and pretend to talk? _What's there to talk about? What if he asks about that morning?_

Ms. Briggs slammed her hands down on the desk, but I didn't as much as flinch. "Yes, you _are!_" I opened my mouth to retaliate, but then I heard the creak of the door.

Freddie was staring at us. I stared back at him. He was dressed in shades of brown; they made his eyes smolder. His eyes took me in for a moment before rising and searching for something in mine. They flickered for a moment, _(What was that?) _but then he focused on Ms. Briggs. They ignited. _She_ was the one burning now.

"Come in, my King," she welcomed, flinching under the intensity of his gaze. She knew he had heard.

Freddie was instantly by my side. He placed a careful hand on my back. He was barely touching me, but I still felt an ache of pain. That was pain, wasn't it?

"I was just briefing our Queen on how to behave on your day out." She looked at him, averted her eyes for a moment, and then continued. "You are both to interact the entire time. Be respectful. Touch frequently – no groping, no tongue in your kisses. Today you must both be carefree and hopelessly in love. If any of the press decide to be bold and speak to you, be courteous, be careful with your words, and look at your partner often with love in your eyes. If you do not, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

She was looking at me, her eyes a sea of hatred. Freddie stepped in front of me for a moment, a stone wall between Ms. Briggs and I. "We understand," he said. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Good. Your carriage is outside. Go."

The guard opened the door for us. I went to leave, but Freddie stayed put. He and Ms. Briggs were staring at each other, having some sort of silent conversation. "Freddie," I said. He turned. "You coming or what?"

He nodded, putting his hand on my back again and walking me through the door. It slammed behind us.

* * *

_Wendy had finally left the shadows to stand in front of him. Her eyes were so understanding, but it wasn't me she was looking at. She was eager, open. I realized what was happening. "No!" I yelled. He looked at me, his eyes dead and disappointed. "Please. Please don't do it." He shook his head at me, and I knew I had lost. She stood on her tip-toes, leaning up to kiss him. He put his hands on her back, his lips soft against hers. Something shattered._

"Sam, we're here."

I was brought from my daydream, shivering. Freddie had one hand on my shoulder, his eyes soft on mine. "I know, dork," I said. He let his hand fall.

I looked around. The trees stood tall around us, the sun shining through their branches and casting morning shadows across the grounds. Flowers grew here and there, the grass around them cut to perfection. I could hear children playing around a gazebo, their mothers gossiping about this and that while their husbands laughed at whatever joke had been told. A leaf floated down from a tree and landed in the carriage. One of our horses whickered.

_It's so serene, _I thought.

Freddie sighed, getting up and stepping onto the ground. He offered me his hand. I thought about jumping off and running for my life, getting rid of my sandals and ripping my sleeves just to piss off Ms. Briggs. But then I thought of the consequences. I looked at Freddie, who still had his hand out, and a fearful voice spoke within me. _What if they hurt him?_

I pulled out the most genuine of my fake smiles and took his hand, noticing how perfectly it fit in his. His skin was warm against mine, and I wondered if his lips would be too.

Freddie pulled me down, smiling back at me. That was when I heard it.

_Click._

My head whipped around, and I saw a man aiming a large camera at us. Then I saw another. And another. I frowned. These people could make our life even more of a hell. I wanted to charge at them.

Freddie pulled me close to him, bending down to whisper in my ear. "They're just taking some pictures, okay? Just ignore them." He kissed the skin beneath my ear and I stiffened.

_Click. Click. _

I noticed that guards were posted around the park– by this tree, by that bush, evenly spread out, just like they had been at the training field. I began to feel dizzy again.

"Want to take a walk?" he asked me. I nodded, and we began our descent down the cobble path. Not once did he let go of my hand.

We talked about nothing, not wanting to tip the press off. First it was the food of the castle, then the servant with the lazy eye. Then I talked about our bed, hoping it would please the press. I poked Freddie in the stomach once, making him smile. We were coming back to where we started, when he brought up the park.

"It's kinda nice here. Tranquil," Freddie said, watching a young child play hide-and-seek among the bushes. I tried to think of something to say – something that would imply nothing, just an empty statement to keep up the conversation. "Yeah, it is. I like the flowers. They're… pretty." Nice, Sam. You just sounded like an absolute _girl. _

_But that's what they want, right? _

"Just beautiful," he said softly, gazing at me. The way his eyes set on mine made my heart stutter. I blinked rapidly. He began to lean in, closer and closer. My heart was threatening to beat out of my chest. Yet he got closer still, until I could feel his breath on my face. His eyes closed. Almost…

One of my hands pushed against his chest, sending him back. I had panicked. I spat out the first thing that came to my mind. "Tag, you're it!" I yelled, speeding off before Freddie had the chance to recover from our almost-kiss.

I kicked off my shoes as I ran, feeling the soft grass beneath my feet as I charged past civilians. I had my dress in my hands, praying I wouldn't trip as I escaped the situation. It was too much. Just too much. The guards were moving with me, walking with slow, deliberate steps. I jumped over a small hedge, and tumbled to the ground. My crown rolled across the grass.

Pain shot up my spine as I sat up, panting. The hedge blocked me from Freddie's sight, but he would find me soon enough. _They _would find me soon enough. I gulped down air, trying to get my breathing to return to normal. _He shouldn't have tried to kiss me! What would Carly think?_

"She's dead," I said aloud. "He was doing what he was supposed to do."

_He loves her, not me. She should be here, not me. She wouldn't have run._

_What is wrong with me?_

I collapsed onto the ground, looking up at the sun above me. I closed my eyes. The warmth felt nice on my face.

_But nothing compares to his warmth._

_**Stop.**_

I sighed. The light on my eyelids disappeared. Something moved.

My eyes shot open, and I sat up. A little girl was standing over me. She had to be two, three at the most. She held out a half-crushed daffodil.

"For you," she said, offering it to me. My eyebrows furrowed. I changed positions, so that I was kneeling, and took it from her. She had brown hair and bright blue eyes. She gave me a toothy smile that I returned.

_Click._

She picked up the crown, grunting at how heavy it was. "Yours?" I nodded, and she stood on her tiptoes, putting it on my head.

I stood up. She held her arms out and whined. "Up!" she demanded, her lip sticking out. "I'm not your mom, kid,"I said, but still she persisted, thrusting her arms out. I gave in and picked her up, putting her on my hip. Screw the press if they didn't like it.

"Sarah! Sarah, where are you? Sar–"

A woman with brown hair and very high cheekbones stopped in her tracks, looking at us both. Her eyes were as large as plates.

"She yours?" I asked. The woman nodded. I put her down, and she ran to her mother. "I gave her my last flower, Mommy." She tugged at the woman's dress.

"I– I'm so sorry, your Highness. She just ran off and I didn't know–"

"No prob. She's a cute kid." The woman curtsied and tugged on her daughter's hand. "Come along, Sarah." She pulled her away quickly. Sarah turned back for a minute. "Bye, Queeny!" she said loudly, waving. I smirked as the woman dragged her away, feeling lighter somehow. I looked at the daffodil in my hand and smiled. I was not one to get all warm and fuzzy over stupid things like children and flowers, but there was something about this that felt right. Like there was hope, real hope. Maybe everything would be okay.

"Sam!" I heard Freddie call, concern in his voice. I'd almost forgotten about him. Almost. I peeked around the hedge, seeing him come my way, guards in suit. An idea crept into my head.

I bent down behind the hedge, waiting for him to come closer. "Sam!" His voice wasn't so distant anymore. "Sam!" Louder now. "Sam, where are you?" Surely people were looking.

Just as I saw his foot pass, I jumped out, tackling him. He yelped, and we rolled. I attacked his face with kisses, my hands gripping the brown fabric of his shirt. His cry died in his throat as my lips met his, kissing him again and again. He reciprocated, his hands in my hair, his fingers tangling in my locks. _Ohhhh. _I pulled him closer.

My ears popped, and I felt dizzy again, but it was a pleasant sort of disorientation. His lips _were _warm, and smooth too. "Mmmhh," he groaned against my lips, the sound coming from his throat. One of his hands slipped from my hair to my cheek, then to my waist, pulling me closer, _always closer. _I could feel him parting my lips with his, letting his cinnamon taste invade my mouth. _Oh God. _I couldn't breathe.

I pulled away, opening my eyes. The world was spinning. I watched his chest move as he took in deep breaths, trying to get his breath back. His hands were still on me, but mine were loosening their grip. He slowly opened his eyes; they were lidded. He smiled. "Hello to you too."

_Clickclickclickclickclick._

* * *

I fell asleep against him on the way home. We had stuck around for the entire afternoon and had eaten our lunch at the park. I had devoured the food, but Freddie had barely eaten at all. He didn't talk much either. Sometimes I would look up just as he glanced at me.

We actually did play tag for a little while. I would slow down sometimes, to make him think he could catch me, but as soon as I felt his fingers graze me, I would speed up again. He would yell or groan, and I would just laugh. Finally, I gave him a break and let him catch me, but when he did, he didn't let go. He spun me around until we both fell down, dizzy from it all.

I woke when I felt the carriage come to a stop, but let my eyes stay closed. Night had fallen, and the spring air was chilly. I expected Freddie to shake me awake, but instead he carefully picked me up and took me inside. Fine by me. I didn't have to make an effort.

I felt him carry me up flights of stairs, down long hallways. I heard servants offer help, but Freddie rejected them every time.

I heard a pair of feet fall in step with Freddie's, and I knew there was only one person it could be. "How'd it go?" Wendy's voice whispered from beside him.

"Great," Freddie whispered back. "It was actually kinda fun."

"Ms. Briggs had you monitored. She seemed pleased when she came out of the office." Freddie snorted. I heard a door open. "Details tomorrow. K?" I guess Freddie nodded after that, but he didn't go into the room. It was silent for a moment, and I wondered what they were doing. My eyebrows furrowed. I stirred in Freddie's arms, and he shifted my weight to one arm, his other hand rubbing mine soothingly. I crushed the daffodil in my hand even more.

"Let me get her to bed before she wakes up," he said.

"Get me if you need anything. Goodnight," she whispered. Even with the quiet tone, I knew she was smiling. I felt a little nauseous, remembering the dream. _It's nothing. Nothing._

I felt him lean against the door to make it close, and walk over to bed. He hesitated, holding me tighter for a moment. _Hmm._

He rocked on his feet for a moment, shifting my head to his chest. I could hear the cadence of his heart, solid and strong, _thud thud, thud thud. _I fully relaxed at the sound. I must have tensed up in the hallway.

Freddie sighed, setting me down almost reluctantly. He pried my fingers open, taking the daffodil. _Don't throw it away, _I almost said.

He pulled the blankets up to my chin, tucking me in. He brushed the hair from my face, and I shivered. _Why does that feel so good?_

I heard the floor creak as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, standing by my bedside. What was he waiting for? I couldn't be the only one who was tired.

Suddenly, I felt his breath on my face. My own hitched, my heart skipping. Was he…?

The floor groaned again as he turned on his heel and walked out. I heard the door to the bathroom close, and huffed, sitting up. The room was dark.

Moonlight flooded in from the window, and I could see he had put the daffodil on the nightstand. I laid back, thinking about today, about the park, about the girl, about the kiss… which was better forgotten, considering that it was all for the press. _Wasn't it?_ The day had been… nice. Not relaxed, not perfect, but nice. I didn't feel like a monster for a little while. I felt worth something when he kissed me.

Who knows? Maybe Freddie and I would get closer, and we'd… we'd… be whatever it was called when people became close. Maybe things _would _be okay.

I turned on the light by the bed and gasped. I crawled back, my eyes large. Carly was beside my bed, the spear through her stomach.

"Monster," she moaned. She vanished when I blinked.

My body began to shake, and I felt the hatred start to fill my veins. I hugged my legs, trying to breathe, but not wanting to.

Things weren't going to be okay.

* * *

_So much suspicion. So much denial._

_Can a certain someone bring Sam out of denial?_

_Or will she be sent deeper into her hole?_

_Rewards on the way._

_Betrayal as well._

_Review to see who puts the knife in_

_and who takes it out._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	21. Fight or Flight

_**Happy December, and thank you all for the reviews! 337! And I'm at 101 follows! SCREAM OF APPRECIATION!**_

_**My friend Kenzie pointed out that I have a thing for mirrors. She kept asking me, "What is up with the royals breaking mirrors?" I think I do this because mirrors reflect the world around us, and Sam and Freddie take them out for this reason exactly. Why would you want something to reflect a world of secret hell? Also, mental breakdowns and mirrors don't really mix anyway, now do they? **_

_**ALSO, if you have not listened to Florence + The Machine's new song "Breath of Life", then you are missing out on some serious chiz. The song has some AWESOME strings, and her voice is just… UGH. There are no words. Don't even get me started on the drums.**_

_**When I try to relate it to the story, the lyrics always strike me as being from Wendy's POV. They perfectly describe how she feels towards the end of the story, so if you'd like a little insight, look up the lyrics. In a few of them, I feel like she's referring to Sam, and in others, Freddie. **_

_**I wanted to go ahead and give you all a warning. There is a bit of foul language in this chapter, but if you know me and/or have read my any of previous stories, this shouldn't be anything new. This story is slowly escalating.**_

_**To MNMs R Yummy: Hope you like your apperance as the servant with the frightening eyes! :^)**_

_**Finally, I wanted to get this updated pretty quickly, so please ignore the grammatical errors.**_

_**On with the ceremonies!**_

* * *

"_Birds were always meant to choose flight."_

* * *

_Freddie's POV_

_She pulled me closer, moaning as I sucked on her neck. "More," she rasped, her hands moving to grip my hair. I began to tug on her dress, and I felt her yank my head down to kiss me. But just as our lips were about to connect, she changed. She pushed me back, and I watched in horror as she began to transform. Her hair shortened, the curls straightening, the sun that was her hair turning autumn red. Her mouth widened; her jaw shifted; her nose expanded. Her waist got smaller. Her curves melted away, her body becoming lanky. She smiled at me, but the love in my heart faded as I gazed upon her new face. She let out a high whistle. _

The dream faded, and my fingers stretched out to find Sam. My hands closed around bed sheets; they smelled crisp and clean, with the faintest scent of Sam. I could feel light on my face. The whistling continued, and my eyebrows furrowed when I reached farther and did not feel her skin beneath my fingers. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

The bed was empty besides myself, but the same could not be said for the room. I could see Wendy's reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. She was folding towels, whistling a song I did not know. The tune rose and fell quickly, but remained cheery throughout its time.

I got out of bed, running a hand through my hair as I let out a yawn. I trudged over the bathroom and leaned in the door. The translucent windows in the bathroom hinted at all cloudy day. "Wendy," I said, getting her attention. The whistle died immediately.

She looked at me and smiled brightly, putting the towels in the cabinet. Her teeth looked whiter than usual, but not any less hound-like. "Good morning." She was smiling so hard it almost looked like it hurt.

"What is it?" I asked, eyeing her grin. It was almost amusing. She picked up a newspaper from the bin beside the sinks and handed it to me. The headline jumped out at me, and suddenly I understood.

**QUEEN SHOWS SOFT SIDE,** the headline shouted. I skimmed over the article, and soon I had a smile to match hers. There were three pictures; the first was of Sam and I kissing, the second of Sam taking a flower from a little girl, and the third of her speaking with the mother with the child on her hip. The article mostly talked about how motherly and loving Sam had been on our day out, not one word of slander to be found. I glanced up from the article to read Wendy's expression.

"Word around the castle is that the government is very pleased with your first time out. By the look on your face in the picture, I guess you are too," Wendy teased, shaking a lock of red hair out of her face.

The paper went from my hands to hers. She folded it up. "I'll cut out the pictures for you if you want," she pestered. My eyes rolled automatically.

"Sam eating breakfast?" I asked, pulling out a brush and running it through my hair, trying to banish the bed head I had gotten during my nightly toss and turns.

"She's with Ms. Briggs." The brush landed on the counter with a thud.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" I roared, already rushing for the door. "They hate each other! Bad things happen when those two are alone!" Oh, irony.

"Freddie! They're just discussing the skills Sam needs to learn! Calm down!" she pleaded. Wendy tugged on my arm just as I made it through the bathroom door, moving towards the hallway. The abrupt yank made me lose my balance; I crashed to the ground, taking Wendy down with me.

We ended up in an uncomfortable position, with me on top of her while her back was against the floor. My arms ached from the fall, but I pushed myself up on them; there needed to be some of distance. Wendy's hair was fanned out behind her. She let out a groan; her head had made a horrendous cracking sound when it hit the floor. "Ugh, Freddie!" she complained.

"Sorry," I apologized. The door opened.

My heart stopped, horrified that Sam was the one walking in on us, but it was only one of the servants. Her eyes widened when she saw us, assuming the worst. I quickly detached myself from Wendy, my cheeks burning. She cleared her throat, stuttering out a sentence. "Ms. Briggs would l-l-like to see you now that she has finished with the Q-Queen."

"Thank you for passing on the message," I said courteously, trying to avoid the girl's eyes. They were full of shock and just a little frightening.

She gave a curt nod, curtsying on shaking legs. She quickly dismissed herself from the room, fleeing the scene like a bird would take flight.

Wendy must have seen the concern on my face, because she spoke up. "Don't fret over it; I'll talk to her."

"What if she believes her eyes and not her ears?"

"I have methods of convincing her otherwise," Wendy assured. She looked me over. "Your clothes are in the wardrobe. I would advise you to go speak with Ms. Briggs before she comes looking for you." _Because God knows nothing good comes out of that, _she said without speaking.

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

_Sam's POV_

I roamed the castle with nothing else to do. After a brief meeting with Ms. Briggs, who had been relieved we hadn't screwed up, but angry that the government wanted to give me a reward, had talked through gritted teeth as she told me what my 'prize' was. I had been hoping for a ham, or maybe some Bolivian bacon, but instead, I got to choose the first skill I needed to learn. I scoffed at the options she gave me, coming up with my _own _skill.

The skill? Weaponry. What else? It was definitely better than knitting or "manners", and unlike those girly, proper things, _this _would actually come in handy. I knew two guards that would be mysteriously disappearing in the dead of the night. They will rue the day they messed with Sam Benson.

_Ew, rue? Sam, you're loosing it._

Luckily for me, she had been forced to oblige. (Though there was a lot of muttering under her breath and looks of disapproval.) My lessons with the Weapons' Master started tomorrow.

I pushed a servant out of my way, taking a turn down yet another long hallway. I had no idea were exactly I was going, or what I hoped to find, but now that I had set out the quest, there was nothing more I wanted to do.

Okay, maybe there _was _one other thing….

The birds were everywhere, just as they had been before, but they didn't bother me as much as they had on my evening rendezvous with Carly and Freddie. I ran my fingers over a wooden painting of the birds, my hand pausing on the one that bled crimson. _You are me, _I thought. I pulled my hand back in revulsion. I'd lied.

I caught myself in a mirror as I made it to the bottom of a cramped stairwell; it was darker in the room I was in, whatever room that so happened to be. I looked the same, yet different. I hadn't put on my sleeves this morning (something the witch had chided me about), so my scars were out for the world to see, a deadly reminder of the arena. My eyes seemed darker, as if they were reflecting the world around me. Many of my curls were out of place, done however curls come to be that way. I had dressed myself that morning while Freddie had tossed and turned, moaning incoherent words; therefore, my face was deprived of the concealer that removed the circles under my eyes, evidence of nightmares. I did not look happy. I did not look healthy. But I was still Sam. The change? Now I was Queen Sam, and this was the new look I assumed under the title.

I hate life.

Someone appeared in the mirror behind me. It was Logan, with the whip. He grinned evilly at me and grabbed my arm. I could feel his nails digging into my skin.

"_Please, please stop!"_

I scowled. He would not break me. No, not this time. This time, he would be the one begging for his life. I reeled my fist back, turning around to punch him in the face. _Come get me, fucker. _

There was no one there.

I stumbled back. No, he had _been _there. I could feel him. My arm was still aching from his tight grip.

I began to run again. It was all I seemed to do these days; I ran down more steps as they spiraled down, the light from outside being replaced by torches. He had been there. Now he could be anywhere, lurking, waiting for me to let my guard down.

Panic fueled me until I finally collapsed onto the ground, resting my head against a stone wall. There were torches along the bare walls, stone and dirt underneath me. Here there was no one; no one but me and a few ghosts. As long as they weren't my own, I had no problem with them.

Farther down the hall to my right, there was only darkness. God knew how long the hallway was. I thought of all the things that could come crawling out of the shadows and groaned, closing my eyes. _Nothing is there, _I told myself.

Footsteps sounded from the end of the hall. Something _was _there.

I slowly got to my feet, taking up a fighting stance. I was done running away. I would face it this time – whether it was him, her, or nothing at all. It would not make it past me, even if my fist went all the way through it. I was Queen; better yet, I was Queen _Sam_, and even though the title changed many things about me, it did not make me weak. That was something the government didn't understand; I was a fighter, not a lover.

A light moved side to side, almost as if it was floating on its own. _Maybe there really are ghosts, _I thought for a moment. As it got closer, the flame grew brighter. The sound increased. Once it reached the edge of the darkness, it paused. Angered and anxious, I called out. "Tell me who you are!"

The man stepped out of the shadows. He was well-built, with dark hair and a handsome face. The smile he gave me was more like a smirk, the glint in his coal eyes more than just a little mischievous. He had on a brownish black doublet that had no sleeves, his muscles bulging. _They're almost as big as Freddie's. Almost. _His belt was hanging off his hip, and he had leather wrapped around his forearms. "My name is Griffin, your Highness." I eyed him suspiciously as he approached me, still smirking. He bowed to me, and I found myself liking it. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

_I might say the same. _"What business do you have here?"

"I am the Weapons' Master, and I was just… _chatting _with a friend." I looked at him questioningly.

"You're my new teacher?" I asked. He grinned from ear to ear.

"Were you expecting someone less handsome?" he asked, his lips twitching.

"You're a cocky bastard, aren't you?" It wasn't ladylike or kind, but he let out a roaring laugh so loud that it echoed off the walls.

"You're quite the lady, aren't you?" he guffawed. I couldn't help but join in – this guy had a sense of humor I liked, and even when he had been 'polite' it had that undertone that was just…. Ugh, I couldn't explain it.

"So, why would the lovely Queen be roaming the dungeons alone? Is the King too busy preparing his love speeches to walk with you?"

I looked farther down the hallway, and realized there were barred doors in the walls. Hmmph. "You're bold too," I observed, raising an eyebrow. _But not at all smart. _

"And you're royalty. How ever will I make up rudeness, my Queen?"

"You could start by shutting up," I shot back, "You really think it's a good idea to be bold and cocky with the Queen?"

He smirked. "No. Which is exactly why I am." _Wow. _

"Well, you better watch it. I can kick some serious ass, otherwise I wouldn't be here. But I'll refrain from kicking yours _only_ because you're my new teacher. And I'm walking alone because I like to _be _alone. Got it, bub?"

He didn't so much as flinch. "Oh yes, Your Highness, I understand perfectly." I noticed he was in my personal space, and took a step back. He didn't notice.

"Considering that you will soon be my pupil, would you like to take stock of the weapons and decide which one you'd like to start with?"

For a minute, Freddie's face swam into my mind. I could see his eyes, dark and full of disapproval. He wouldn't like this. Maybe–

"_Please. Please don't do it." He shook his head at me, and I knew I had lost. She stood on her tip-toes, leaning up to kiss him._

The dream brought a bitter taste to my mouth. "Yeah. I'd like that." The smile/smirk returned to his face, and he held his arm out to me. I hesitated.

"Come on, Ms. Briggs would hate it." There was nothing more perfect he could have said in that one moment, so I took his arm and walked with him down the hall.

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

_Freddie's POV_

"Where is she? It's been hours! What if she's hurt or something?" I asked. The sun was just beginning to lower in the sky, and I hadn't seen her once the entire day.

"The others say they saw her walking through the halls. She's just becoming familiar with her surroundings," Wendy assured, patting my arm. I was pacing the parlor, which was two floors below our bedroom. I frowned.

"I could have gone with her! What if she has another freak attack like she did that morning? I can't handle that again Wendy, you know I can't." I ran both hands through my hair. Wendy opened her mouth to say something when we heard the sound of laughter somewhere down the hallway – Sam's laughter.

I dashed from the room, almost running over Sam in the process. There was a man beside her who seemed to be about our age if not a little older, laughing along. "Oh, hey dude," Sam greeted, still recovering from the outburst.

"Hey, dude?! Sam, where have you been? I wake up and you're gone, and then you don't return all day, and all you have to say is hey, dude?" Wendy came out of the parlor about this time; when she saw the guy standing beside Sam, her body went rigid.

"Griffin," she seethed through gritted teeth. He smirked, giving her a sarcastic wave. Her fists clenched.

"I've been hanging out with my new weapons' teacher, Fredward! What is your problem?"

"My problem is that I didn't know where you were, or who you were with, or if you were happy, or if you were lying on the floor with your brains everywhere!" I rubbed my face. "I just… I just worry, okay?"

"Hey dude, she was safe with me. We just played with whips and chains for a few hours," he said, smirking. My blood boiled at his suggestion. I narrowed my eyes at him, stepping forward. He did as well.

I could feel Wendy shifting closer to me, ready to pull me back if necessary. Sam looked at us both for a moment and sighed something like, "men" under her breath. "Griffin, Freddie and I are going to have a chit-chat. I'll see you tomorrow for our lesson."

"I'll be waiting," he said, and my jaw clenched. He did a mock solute and went back to wherever the hell he came from.

"Wendy, leave us alone for a while," Sam said.

"Fine by me," she said, and she stomped off down the hall. Somehow I knew who she was in pursuit of.

Sam pulled me into the parlor and shut the doors, turning around to look at me. My other fist was still clenched, and I knew my face was red with anger. She rolled her eyes. "It was a joke, Freddie."

"It wasn't funny to me," I responded.

"I knew you wouldn't like him," she muttered. I seethed. "Of course I don't like him! He _breathes _bad news, Sam!"

"You don't even know him!"

"And you do? You met him a few hours ago, and yet you spent the whole day with him! Don't trust him, Sam!"

"I said I liked him, not that I trusted him. And why can't I spend a few hours working on a skill with him? _You _spent your day with Wendy!" she argued, jabbing a finger at me.

My eyebrows furrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She threw her hands in the air. "Forget it, Freddie. Just forget it." She opened the door, but I grabbed her arm, pulling her back. Electricity shot through my arm.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm going to take a nap. And tomorrow I'm going to the first of _many _lessons I have with Griffin. So you might as well get over it, because there's no way of stopping it," she said, the attitude in her voice slowly drifting away as she looked at me. There was certain sadness in her eyes. It was there for only a second, and then it was gone, replaced with a cold stare that seemed to cut right through me. Sam stomped off.

I cursed under my breath, feeling angry and shitty. She had a point, but so did I. And what was that whole thing about Wendy? I shook my head. What if this was us now? What if she began to really hate me?

What if she began to love him?

The thought made my blood boil. It couldn't happen. It _wouldn't _happen. I would have to get rid of him. Somehow.

* * *

_Are things taking a turn for the worst?_

_And what about Griffin? Could Sam develop feelings for him? _

_If so, how low will Freddie sink to get rid of him?_

_Practices of all kinds sit in our next chapter._

_Another arena awaits._

_Review to find what weapons will be used_

_in this game of love and war._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	22. Drumming Song

_**The last chapter was more of a filler, and I apologize for that. This one is quite long.**  
_

_**YOU MUST STICK AROUND FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER. Shit is going to go DOWN.**_

_**The song of this chapter is Drumming Song by Florence + The Machine. It fits the power and passion in this chapter.**_

_**There will be a link to Sam's dress, made on dolldivine, on my profile.**_

_**On with the ceremonies!**_

* * *

_"You will pay for your trespasses. Mark me."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

The ground was damp beneath my boots, and I could feel them sink into the grass of the lawn. The crossbow was in my hands, and I was in position to hit the target twenty yards away. The polished wood and metal felt smooth and cold against my skin, and the knowledge of all the power with it felt exhilarating. I could withstand its heavier weight due to my abnormal strength (Griffin had been impressed, even if he tried not to show it.), and even though we had barely started, I was enjoying it. A lot.

Although, one thing I was _not _enjoying was all the looks Griffin kept giving me. It was almost like he wanted to eat me alive. And hey, I know Mama's a fine piece of ass, but that did not give him permission to stare at it whenever he thought I wasn't looking.

But I did like his banter and his ideas, so I decided to ignore it and go on. It wasn't like he was going to _do _anything, anyway. He might've been a bit on the rebellious side, but I highly doubted he wanted a death sentence.

"Draw the string up until it's locked in place," Griffin said, walking me through it again. He was to my left, inspecting my movement as I pulled back the string. I felt his eyes rake up and down my body; the outfit I was wearing couldn't be helping. It was burgundy in color and sleeveless. I wore two leather belts – one underneath my chest, causing it to be more noticeable, and another just above my hips. My skirt was ankle length on one side, but was cut so that it covered no more than my underwear on the other. It revealed almost all the scars on my left leg, but we had been guaranteed that the press would be kept out today, so it really didn't matter. My hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and my makeup was done darker today. I'd told the servants to make me look fierce, and they had done well. I had to give Matilda props – I felt a little badass.

"Check the locking mechanism. If the bolt isn't set the right way, it won't fly like it should." I gave a curt nod once I made sure it was secure. Locked and loaded. I felt excitement begin to race through me.

He moved so that he was behind me, and slowly adjusted my hold. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, stirring the few loose hairs there. His breath smelled of tobacco, and I felt a wave of nausea come over me for a moment. _If only it was cinnamon, _something in me sighed.

_No. _I bent my eyebrows in concentration. If I pushed him away I'd lose my teacher. _You've had guys hit on you before. Chill out._

_But that was before the arena. Before I was Queen. Before Freddie._

_Freddie._

I paused for a moment to take a quick glance at the balcony. Freddie was there, and even from this distance I could feel the anger and revulsion blazing in his eyes. I wanted to cringe away; was it aimed at me or Griffin? Or both?

I fell asleep without Freddie last night, but when I woke up he was there. He had a pillow in his arms, and he was gripping it so tightly I thought it might burst. His face had been troubled; he'd looked so angry, and I knew his dream was not a good one. Maybe the anger from his sleep had carried into his consciousness. Or maybe he just really didn't like Griffin.

The latter was true, that couldn't be denied; the death glare he had given him when he'd made that joke had been enough of an indicator. But his eyes were burning him alive, and I couldn't think of any other reason why, other than that he didn't trust him.

_He used to look at Carly's boyfriends that way, _something whispered.

I mentally shook off the thought and focused as Griffin leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "Now pull the trigger gently this time."

I took a deep breath as Griffin released me so I could take my shot. _You can do it. You know you can. _I pulled the trigger.

The bolt went flying through the air, as magnificent as a bird taking off from its cliff. I heard the solid sound as it pierced the target.

Bullseye.

"You're a natural!" Griffin praised, slapping me on the back as if to say, "Job well done." I bit the inside of my lip so hard that I felt the blood rush into my mouth. Victory was sour.

I swallowed the blood and managed a grin. "Thanks." Griffin smiled back at me, and I could see something in his eyes. Something devious. My danger senses went haywire, and I took a step back. He looked like a cat about to devour a mouse; or, a bird.

I watched as a mousy servant took out the bolt. "Want to go again?" he asked.

I looked up to where Freddie was. Wendy had appeared by his side, and she had her hand on his shoulder. She was speaking softly to him, as if to calm him. He was anything but calm – even the distance between us couldn't hide how white his knuckles had turned white as he gripped the concrete edge of the balcony.

"Sure," I said, "But let me position myself this time."

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

"Sam!" Wendy's voice rang clear across the yard, and I lowered my bow, my other hand going to wipe my brow. Her hair was pinned up, and there was sweat dripping down her cheek. She finally approached us, panting. "Ms. Briggs needs you to change, bathe, and come down to the ballroom. You have dancing lessons with Freddie immediately."

"Hello, Wendy," Griffin grinned. Wendy glared at him so heavily it was a wonder he didn't burst into flames then and there.

"Why didn't she tell me about this yesterday? I had plans to practice all day."

"Because the letter didn't come in until today! We really do need to go now. Freddie's already there."

"I don't care about some stupid letter!" I argued. Something about the hot sun beating down and the fact that I had a weapon in my hands made me feel as if arguing would actually help; almost like if I didn't go now, I wouldn't be dragged there later. It was a ridiculous fantasy, but one I had, nonetheless. I could dream.

"Don't you know what will happen if you don't come now?" she asked. I looked at Griffin for a moment. It wasn't that I wanted to be around him longer, I just wanted to hold the crossbow longer. It made me feel powerful. Everyone wants power.

But, if I compared it with the feel of Freddie's arms….

I guess Griffin thought I was looking for permission to go, because he said," Go on and tap dance with your King. I'll be here for you when you're done." He grinned. "Besides, I'm sure Wendy could keep me preoccupied for a few hours…."

"In your dreams!" Wendy hissed, her face reddening. There was so much hatred in her eyes; real hatred, the kind you obtained when something inside you died.

"Dreams of the past, maybe." Wendy gasped in offense, the look on her face telling me that he wasn't joking. Whoa. Obvious back-story I didn't know going on here.

"Wendy, let's go _before_ you rip his eyes out," I urged, handing the crossbow to Griffin and taking her hand. She pulled me along without a second thought, muttering obscene curses under her breath. I'd always seen her so calm and collected, it was quite a shock to see this other side of her.

Something else I hadn't expected was her strength. I had known she was fast, but strong? She had a death grip on my hand, and had I been any other person than myself, I couldn't have stopped her if I tried. She noticed my stare and apologized. "I'm sorry, but I just _hate _him so much."

"You hate him because you loved him," I said immediately, without thought. Hmph. Since when did I become so knowing?

I knew I had hit the nail on the head when Wendy stopped dead in her tracks. We were halfway up a stairwell, and two maids were passing with their heads down. Her blue eyes were wide with shock, so much darker than mine. I guess she hadn't expected anything poetic out of me. Not that she could be blamed; I hadn't expected it myself.

"My, how different we are," she said, and then continued to drag me up the stairs.

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

Wendy entered the ballroom beside me. We were a pigeon and a peacock – my dress was so vibrant that I wanted to shield my eyes, and _I _was the one wearing it. It was nothing like any of the dresses I'd worn before. Unlike the tight, awkward things they'd made me wear before, this dress was loose and flowed to the floor, almost like water. It was sleeveless and cut in a way that the skin from underneath my knee to my ankle could be seen. My heels, belt, necklace, and lips were all crimson, but the dress tinted blue. The top was pale mint, which darkened to sky blue as the dress went on. The huge, overflowing wrap I wore devoured my arms, and did the exact opposite. There was a flower made of feathers tucked in my hair. _I'm not a bird, no matter how they dress me. _

There were rows of people lined up on a newly-made platform. Those who stood out to me were the percussionists; they stood in the back, but their drums were so large that I took a second to admire them. One of them saw me and put his hand on the person next to him, grabbing her attention. They both gawked. Slowly, the entire platform of people was looking at me. Ms. Briggs and Freddie had been discussing something, but only Freddie had failed to notice my entrance; it was only because he had his back turned to me. With my outfit, you could find me in a dark room.

"So I'm here. What's the big deal about cutting into my weapons' lesson and making me parade around in this thing?" I demanded.

Freddie turned to look at me, and I watched his eyes change. He took me in, his eyes sweeping down the length of my body.

"I dare you to make a smartass comment," I said, stepping down the stairs, the clacking of my heals unusually loud.

"A Queen does not speak foul language," Ms. Briggs scolded.

"This Queen does." I was back in business. It had only taken a few hours of weaponry to make me feel powerful again. No one could tear me down. No one.

Looking back, I probably shouldn't have tempted fate as much.

She chose to ignore that. "We received a letter today from one of the most important families in the country, wishing to know when our first official gathering would be. You have two weeks to practice dancing, proper etiquette, and, well, everything else."

_You mean keeping up the hopelessly in-love act, _my eyes glared. She gave a curt nod, smiling. Freddie had yet to say a word.

"Well, let's get it over with. I want to get back to my teacher."

I'd meant to say lesson, but that one slip had brought Freddie out of his reverie. The fire in his eyes was back. "God forbid you miss that." His voice was bitter. I cocked an eyebrow, popping my jaw.

"Oh, don't be angry. I know how much you hate being away from me," I said, knowing he couldn't retaliate in front of Ms. Briggs and the rest. Wendy nudged me, a signal to knock it off, but I didn't care. I was sucking as much control as I could out of this streak.

"Ready to begin, Your Highnesses?" Ms. Briggs asked with a false politeness.

"Of course," Freddie said, never taking his eyes off of mine. It was a quiet battle.

"Good. Do either of you know how to dance?"

"I do," I said, before Freddie could get a word out. I walked closer to him, feeling something pull me toward him.

"Then you will lead. I'd like to see how much you know first. Adjust your speed and movement to the music."

I couldn't have told you any of the expressions she made or how demanding her tone had been. All I saw was Freddie. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me to him, his eyes getting darker. There was so much anger.

The music started and we began to dance, our movements jerky and out of step with the song. My grip on his neck was too tight, much too tight.

She stopped us after the first minute and restarted the song. The same thing happened again. And again. And again, until we were both as irritated as she was. We'd been trying for twenty minutes and had gotten nothing out of it.

"Take five, everyone," Ms. Briggs grumbled. The musicians picked got up and left the ballroom, doing whatever musicians do during their barely-there break.

Freddie and I stared each other down, glaring heavily. His anger made me angry, and vice versa. Eventually I was going to hit him. I could feel it.

"You guys." We both turned to see Wendy beckoning to us. Sighing, we followed her into another room. It was dark inside.

She flipped on the light and looked at us pointedly. "Look," she said. "I know you guys are both upset with each other for… whatever reason. But glaring at one another while you yank yourselves back and forth is doing nothing but making it worse. Especially you, Sam."

"Me? What did I do?!" I yelled. Wendy didn't even wince.

"You haven't noticed how you're acting?" she asked exasperatedly. I looked at Freddie, as if to say "What the Hell?", but he just looked at the ground.

Wendy calmed. "Just… just turn your anger into passion. Just take all of your feelings and turn it into passion, because that's the only way you'll get out of here without… without something happening."

"Fine. Come on," I spat at Freddie, opening the door and going back into the ballroom. The musicians had all gone back to their places. "We're ready now," I said. I could feel Freddie's presence behind me as I went back to the dance floor.

"Good." Ms. Briggs waved her hands to signal the musicians as Freddie placed his hands on me again. The drums started up, and we were off. I could feel the vibrations deep within my chest as the drums pulsed like my heart. Freddie pulled me close and then pushed me away. His grip on me was tight, but not painful. _Anger to passion, _I reminded myself. Our movements were furious but smooth. I was flung back on a whim. Luckily for me, I was flexible, and my upper body strength was only slightly short of amazing. I brought myself back up, biting my lip as I rubbed my hips against his, slinking down before jumping back up. He pulled me back to him, our chests pressed together, eyes locked. He was still angry. Determined. But so was I.

We made our way across the floor, and I did a quick two-step before he spun me around, bringing me so close our foreheads touched. The music slowed, the drums imitating a heart-beat. Our bodies moved like our hearts until the music picked up again. Finally, the music hit its climax and ended with a last pound of the drums. We stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. Staring into Freddie's eyes, I noticed something about them had changed. They were less angry. I realized that I felt the same; although, the feeling had not completely left me. It still clutched at my dress desperately, like a small child just begging to be held.

I could feel Ms. Briggs eyes on us, and slowly I disentangled from him. For the first time in half an hour, I looked over at her. "Dismissed," she said to the musicians. They bowed to her and took their leave.

She looked at me, her eyebrows raised in challenge. I knew what she wanted. I wouldn't let my reign end so easily.

I began to walk towards the exit, fully intent on changing back into my other clothes and continuing my lesson with Griffin, when I felt something snap on my wrist.

I looked at the servant that had appeared out of nowhere and then down at my wrist.

Shit. It was the shock bracelet.

Every panic sense in my head went haywire, and I bolted towards the door. I just needed to get out of range–

Then it was there, tearing through me like a long scream. I realized I _was _screaming, holding onto the door for support. "Don't hurt her!" Freddie's voice came through the sea of pain, but then I could hear his wails of pain join mine. I could hear Wendy's protests as she tried to snatch the remote away from Ms. Briggs. I could see red stars. Red hearts. Red birds.

With a strength I didn't know I had, I pushed on the door, falling to the ground. My hands hit the marble with a thud. My hands moved, then my knees, crawling away. This wasn't the kind of power I'd been thinking of.

Finally, after crawling out of a door and into the yard, the electricity died away. I slumped against the side of the castle, putting my head in my hands. It was then that I realized that my face was wet with tears. My body ached.

_And just when the power was back, _I thought. She brought me down. I should've known.

_Keep your head, _something whispered. When I looked up again, a little girl was standing over me._ There are so many children here. _She had big doe eyes and a kind smile. _She's seven, _I knew.

She offered me her hand, and I took it, getting to my feet. How was I even walking? I had barely been able to move last time, and she hadn't shocked me as badly then.

"_Show them how strong you are," _the girl said, but her mouth didn't move. I noticed there was something familiar about her. She was a friend.

She led me across the yard and into a place with stone walls. We passed under an arch made of pale stone. I breathed in deeply as I smelled the red roses that were wound around it.

I looked down at my bare feet. I could feel the cool stone of the path underneath my soles. My eyes drifted along the expansive garden. There were bushes and small trees everywhere, not to mention the multiple statues. _"There are two ponds as well. The larger one is called Midnight Eyes, and the smaller has no name at all, for it was named in a time long forgotten,"_ the girl said. Her voice was so sweet that I didn't even think about how she had answered my thoughts.

I didn't question her as she pulled me along, straight to a statue of a weeping Queen. Her name was so worn that I could only make out the first few letters. "Rest here. Someone will come eventually," the girl said, pushing me up onto the statue. The space underneath the statue was wide enough for me to curl up in a ball. The girl was eye-to-eye with me now, and her eyes brought back the image of a day that changed me; the day I met Carly.

My eyes widened at that, and the girl smiled at me. "Have a nice nap, Sam," she said, and her voice was so much older. It was then that I knew what she was.

She patted me on my arm as I slipped away.

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

_I was tied down to the bed again, my back screaming. Logan and Moose were sneering at me as I tried to scream. Wendy was crying, unable to save me. I pleaded to the man who was not there._

"_Please, help me! Help me Freddie! Freddie! FREDDIE!" My voice cracked as Moose laughed at me, the crack of the whip echoing in the room as it made contact with my skin again. He wasn't there._

"Sam."

"Freddie?" I mumbled sleepily, blinking as I came to.

Wendy was standing in front of the statue, smiling sadly at me. There was a dark bruise running up her jaw and an angry red mark on her left cheek. "Afraid not," replied. I sat up immediately.

"Your cheek… and jaw…."

"Little gifts from the friendly staff of the Royal Castle," she revealed, smiling through her pain. "It doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

_Oh, I'm fine. Just going a little insane, is all. _"Is Freddie okay?" I asked. Wendy lamented. "I don't know. After he was shocked, they dragged him back to your bedroom. I tried to follow, but all I did was earn a few more bruises." I could see the disgust in her eyes.

"This is all my fault," I ruled, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging them. Wendy hoisted herself onto the statue and sat next to me. Our eyes met, and suddenly I just wanted to pour everything out to her – how it felt to have the weapon in my hands, the monsters in the mirrors, the hallucinations that I could _feel. _Her eyes held space for secrets.

"For the first time since this whole thing began, I felt like I was in control again. Matilda's team actually listened to me today, and when Griffin put the crossbow in my hands I just… I felt like I could stand up for myself again. It was like I could do what I wanted – be who I wanted. I was strong again."

Wendy looked at me sadly. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Those days are over, Sam. All freedom disappeared when that crown was placed on your head."

"I know that now," I sighed. She wasn't like Carly; Carly would've wrapped her arms around me and cried as I did. She would've told me that it was okay, that I had just made a little mistake. Wendy was reality. Carly was dead.

"Can I tell you something?" Wendy asked. I nodded, swallowed by self-pity for the moment. She was focused on the retreating sun, the purples that were taking over the sky. Her eyes went back to mine. "I want you to trust me, Sam." My eyebrows furrowed as I studied her face. "Those who you cannot trust are your enemies. I am not your enemy. I want to help you through your reign. I want to help you learn the things I know."

"Why can't you just tell me?" I asked. Wendy smiled at me, her canines glistening like the water of the lakes.

"You have to learn to know; you have to experience to learn," she said. Her hand traced along the leg of the statue. "Even if I told you, it wouldn't do you any good. You would still have to learn, or it wouldn't be effective. Not really."

"Oddly enough, I understand you," I said. It seemed Wendy was on a poetic streak today. No wonder she and Freddie enjoyed each other so much.

The thought made me pull back a little. Wendy looked at me, sensing my tenseness. She observed me, but let it be. A thought struck me from out of nowhere, and I blurted out the question before I even realized what it was. "What's happened with you and Griffin?" I asked.

With just the mention of his name, her entire body went rigid. I'd hit a nerve. "Something I had to learn the hard way." Her eyes met mine, and I was taken aback by all the pain they held. "I don't like wearing my sorrows on my sleeve," she said, "But you did ask." She was silent for a moment, trying to find words. The pain in her eyes melted into anger.

"We were together. I'd known how many women he'd been with – quite a few of them at once, actually – but I didn't care. I knew, but I hadn't learned. I thought I was different." She shook her head, a bittersweet laugh escaping her lips. "I was so stupid."

I gestured for her to go on. "He was my first _everything._ I was so love struck – I'd tell him anything he wanted to know, always. I loved how _bad _he was. Oh, the things he'd do to me right under their noses." She exhaled, her gaze shifting to the sunset. She wasn't in the garden – no, she was somewhere else, somewhere far beyond here. Wendy fell silent, caught up in her memories. I elbowed her.

She glared, but continued nonetheless. "I was so happy – happier than I'd ever been before you guys came along. And then, one morning, when I was fetching wine for the King, I heard noises coming from a closet." Dread started to pool in my stomach. Her fists clenched. "And there he was, on _top _of one of the dungeon maids. Another was in the corner, wearing nothing but his doublet. I still remembered how she looked at me – so haughtily, as if _she _was better.

"And Griffin… he didn't even stop. He just grunted at me to get out."

"I would've yanked him off and drove my fist through his skull," I seethed. No wonder she hated Griffin so much. He was a man-slut AND a douche bag. Any chance of attraction had vanished then and there for me.

"The girls who were with him haven't been heard from in a few years," Wendy said darkly. Surprisingly enough, I felt no sense of horror. "No one ever knows what they are capable of until they've been pushed to the brink." Her head tilted, inspecting me. "But you knew that."

"Too well," I admitted. _So many… I killed so many…._

She sighed. "Griffin's never had anyone turn him down, they say. I've heard some things… none that I could ever confirm, but… I don't think some of them had a choice." Wendy hugged herself as the last bit of sun sank below the surface and twilight climbed onto its throne.

"Have you told Freddie any of this?" I questioned.

She hesitated. "Some. Not all. I knew if I told him everything that he would panic."

"He's like his mother in that way." I reflected on all the times she had come into Carly's home, ranting about tick baths and hormone pills. (Those made Freddie blush the worst – especially when I pointed out that they didn't work.)

She laughed. "He told me about her. You do know why she was so protective of him, right?"

"Because she was a psychotic loony bird?" I guessed. Wendy snorted, covering her nose as the freckles on her face faded against her reddening cheeks.

"Although that may have been a contributing factor, the predominant reason is that she cared for him. She _loved _him, Sam. She freaked out over everything he did because she couldn't bear the thought of him getting hurt." Her eyes were urging me, but to do what? She had leaned closer, her hand resting on the stone next to my leg. The nightly chill punctuated the air, but I could feel the warmth radiating off of her. _Tell me. Tell me what I need to know. Learning takes too long._

She leaned back on her hands, exasperated. I wasn't participating in her unspoken game. I had enough of those to go around.

Another thought whispered at me again and again, brushing against the inside of my ear. A small form moved beside a bush, giggling. The presence was not comforting – it mocked me, laughed at everything I was. I gritted my teeth and ignored it, finally spitting out the thought like an unwanted cherry pit.

"Why does he tell you so much?" My question came out hard and cold, a frosty accusation to match the wind that rustled my hair. She shivered – whether at the breeze or at the ice in my irises, I didn't know.

"I think it's because he has no one else to tell. You know almost everything about him, and who else cares to listen? I want to know. I want to learn. Freddie needs someone to share his thoughts with – the thoughts he's too afraid to share with you."

"Afraid?" I echoed.

"Yes. Afraid. You need someone to share your thoughts with, too – those that you don't want to tell him. Because I know you have them. We all have them."

_The hallucinations. The mirrors. Carly – who really killed her. _

"He just likes you better," I told. The strangest expression overcame her face – almost like I had just announced that we were both dead, and this was purgatory.

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," she expressed. She studied my face, searching for any signs of a lie. She frowned. It finally seemed to register that I was serious.

Petals swirled in the wind, and one landed on the space I had created between us. It was white, delicate. Soon it would wilt, gone without a second glance. Wendy let it slide into her hand, a ghost of life. "To Freddie, I am only a petal. But you, Sam, _you _are the garden." She gestured to the greenery around us. I let my eyes wander from tree to tree, flower to flower. I breathed in the aromatic air, sighing when I felt the wind caress my skin.

"How do you know?" I asked, disbelieving.

She smiled at me. "I know everything."

The entire conversation replayed in my head, and an impulsive decision was made. I stood, stretching my legs. I knew what I had to do. "Meet me at the staircase leading up to the bedroom in twenty minutes."

"What are you going to do?" Wendy asked curiously, tilting her head to the side. She was much like a puppy in that way.

"What I should have done last night."

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

_Freddie's POV_

I felt myself slipping away again, exhausted from today's ordeals. Tiny men were hammering away in my head, breaking down my brain bit my bit. Every muscle ached, every thought a pain. Our dance had ended disastrously, and I didn't know how to handle it – or anything else.

It had been hours since our battle in the ballroom, and I hadn't seen Sam since. I'd ordered Wendy to find her just before I passed out. I woke two hours later, locked in our bedroom with no hope of escape. My mind was a ship in troubled waters, stable land leagues away. I could only pray Sam was alright.

She would return to me before the night was over (or so I had convinced myself), and I was determined to be awake when she arrived. If only I wasn't fighting to keep my eyes open.

Drowsiness was beginning to overtake me. I could picture Sam so clearly in my head, magnificent in a dress made for fantasies. Our dance had been so powerful; we had both been furious with each other, upset over Griffin. I'd spent my morning watching Griffin make passes at Sam, and as the hours went by, I became so overwhelmed with fury that Wendy suggested that I go in and calm my nerves.

The scene in my head morphed into something different. Now it was Sam and Griffin who were dancing, smirking at each other as they moved this way and that. God, what if she was with him now? What if she had passed out and he had found her and… and…?

The lock turned.

I tried to lift my head, but it felt too heavy. The door creaked open, but I didn't hear footsteps. Something solid hit the floor – two things, actually. "Stupid shoes," I heard Sam grumble.

Relief flooded through me like morphine. She wasn't being dragged in, at least. I forced my eyes open.

Sam's curls were in disarray, her feet filthy with what appeared to be fresh soil. The bottom of her dress was grass-stained. With anger, she tore away the sanguine beads on her neck. I cringed as I heard the beads bounce off the floor. They dispersed, rolling across the hardwood and under furniture. She pulled off the belt on her dainty waist, and it thudded to the ground with the beads. Then it was silent.

Slowly, she turned to look at me, her features softening. The mascara she wore was smeared, but I could still see the faint glimmer of her eye shadow. "Hey," she greeted, crawling onto the bed. She sat with her legs folded beneath her.

"Are you okay?" I questioned, reaching out to touch her. She didn't flinch away when I put my hand on her arm and let it rest there.

"Are you?" she asked.

"Yeah… it just took a lot out of me." Her eyes flickered, an emotion there in a flash and then gone, buried under waves of blue.

"I… I'm sorry I didn't come find you… I tried… but they dragged me off and I couldn't move…."

"I get it." She didn't want me to talk about it. Alright.

She pulled back the covers. "You're not changing?" I asked. She shook her head, raising my arm up so she could slip into the crook there. If I hadn't been so out of it, I might've rejoiced.

One of her arms rested on my stomach, her head on my chest. I admired her, memorizing every detail of her face, but she didn't look at me. "What happened to your shoes and wrap?" I questioned.

"Ditched 'em." It was quiet for a moment, and she was just a little tense. The minutes ticked by, but neither of us slept. Sam was so still she could've fooled me, if only her eyes hadn't been open. They were the clearest azure, the light from the lamp casting a shadow over them. I knew the only way we'd both sleep peacefully was if the elephant in the room was addressed.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes locking with mine. "For what?"

"For everything. I wasn't being fair when I freaked out on you yesterday. And I didn't cooperate today and we were both shocked because of it. I was angry with you for a stupid reason, and I'm sorry." I felt my fingers slide from her skin to her hair, one of them wrapping around a curl.

"What about Griffin?" she asked, and I could hear a hint of challenge in her voice.

_He might just not show up to your lesson one day._ "I don't trust him. And I don't like him. At all." _He wants you and I won't let him touch you. Ever._ "But you can make decisions for yourself. Just… be careful, okay?"

She sighed, turning her head so that she wasn't looking at me. I felt her legs intertwine with mine, my skin tingling with the contact. She was so soft.

"I got rid of Griffin," she revealed after a beat of silence. I gawked at her – that was the last thing I had expected. Her hand had curled over my heart; did she feel it skip a beat?

She continued. "Wendy told me some things about him that I didn't like. And today he kept grinning at me, touching me. I didn't like that either." My heart was beating out of my chest. This was everything I wanted to hear. _Well, a few things could be added. _

"I just… I didn't like him. And after all the things Wendy said, I was disgusted with him. I still am." Her voice held disdain. She looked up at me. "Guess you're a better judge of character than I am."

I didn't say anything, my throat too dry to speak. She had gotten rid of him? What had Wendy said to her?

Was it true?

I sat in a stunned silence. "So what now?" I asked.

Sam attempted to shrug against me, but our closeness didn't allow her much room to move her shoulders. "I don't know. Some servant will notify Griffin. I'll have a new teacher come tomorrow morning." She smirked. "And we will have another dancing lesson. _If _you can keep up." Her eyes glinted as she gazed at me, challenging me. I grinned.

"Bring it, Puckett," I whispered.

She leaned closer. My heart palpitated in response. "Don't you mean Benson?" she asked, batting her eyes at me. I gulped as she reached forward, my head screaming. She turned the lamp off.

Darkness enveloped us, but I could still see her silhouette, the glow in her eyes. She slid back down, her head in the crook of my arm. I felt my heart begin to slow, and I took a few breaths, trying to calm myself. She wasn't going to do anything. She was just messing with me.

Finally, I began to slip away again. The faint outline of a couple dancing were in my mind, haunting me. A small voice drifted through the fog of my dream. "Freddie?" I hummed in response.

"Am I the garden?" she asked.

"The what?" I mumbled.

A sigh; there was a sigh. There was always a sigh. "Go back to sleep," she ordered. I obliged, pulling her closer. She was mine to hold. Griffin was out of the picture that had been torn and taped so many times. Now there stood only me and Sam. No one would get in.

_No one._

* * *

_No one, but two._

_Griffin has been gotten rid of._

_Or has he?_

_Review to see who lurks in our next chapter._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


	23. Howl

_**Happy Kissaversary! :^)**_

_**Thank you to everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed/messaged me. I appreciate all my readers, but you guys are my motivators, and you're the reason I post my chapters. Also, thank you to everyone who liked my outtake on Tumblr!**_

_**This took me so long to write because of lack of motivation, among other things. The more reviews/messages I get, the more motivated I am. You want a fast update, you review. I don't care if it's a sentence or a paragraph, I just wanna know if I'm doing well or not. (Or what I could improve on.)**_

_**This chapter is really intense, so there will be foul language. This will probably be one of my last warnings, so just expect everything and then nothing will surprise you. **_

_**The song for this chapter is Howl by Florence + The Machine, although throughout this chapter, the lyrics from her song No Light, No Light kept coming back to me. I think they describe Sam and Freddie pretty well in this chapter and the next.**_

_**Would you leave me if I told you what I'd done?**_

_**And would you leave me if I told you what I've become?**_

_**Shit is gonna go DOWN.**_

_**On with the ceremonies!**_

* * *

"_Keep your hands off what is mine."_

* * *

_Sam's POV_

I was hungry.

Not just hungry, I was _starving. _My stomach was eating itself from the inside out, growling like an angry beast. Groaning, I buried my head in Freddie's chest, hoping to cancel out the noise. He let out a deep breath, muttering incoherently. It brought a smile to my face.

Another growl tore through the silence. I tried to reason with my stomach, explaining how comfortable Freddie's arms were and how far the kitchen was, but God knows it didn't listen. Frowning at the prospect of food was not normal for me, and I didn't like adjusting. Begrudgingly, I untangled myself from Freddie, slipping out of bed before his body could protest.

The door closed behind me with a soft creak. Proud of my quiet escape, I began my descent to kitchen, grumbling all the while. After tonight, I would be stashing snacks under the bed.

At night the castle was a maze more than ever. I tried to feel my way around, ignoring the giggles ringing out of the darkness. Shadows danced along the walls as I walked by. I kept my eyes on the ground, desperately trying to avoid any reflection or dark corner. The kitchen was on the ground level, while our bedroom was on the fifth. I had to admit; it was a huge pain in the ass to walk down a dozen hallways and staircases just to get a piece of fried chicken.

Finally, I reached the kitchen. It was a large place, more spacious than the cafeteria of my highschool, but with a lower ceiling. A corner of the room was devoted to Freddie and me, made especially for times like this. We could take anything out of the two fridges in our area, which had newly cooked food in it everyday – cakes, steaks, you name it. All I needed were a few seconds of mouth-watering goodness and my stomach would be satisfied.

I opened the door on the first fridge with a _pop_, surveying our stock. A delicious piece of pie caught my eye. Straightening myself, I reached for it, my fingers straining to grasp the edges of the plate. _Come to Mama…._

"Hello, Sam."

I jerked away, my skin raising an alarm. Griffin had one hand leaning against the second fridge, the first casting a ghostly light over his handsome features. The pie platter clattered to the floor, the treat ruined by the slip of my hand.

"What the hell are you doing? You scared the shit out of me!" I scolded, trying to slow my heart rate. He smirked, moving his neck so that it popped.

"Didn't expect to see you down here," he said nonchalantly.

"Didn't want to be down here." I knelt to pick up the plate, scowling when I saw the squashed pie up close. It would have been _so _good.

"Oh no. You want to be in bed with lover boy," Griffin quipped, bitterness heavily lining his tone like a dark cloud.

I glared at him, crossing my arms. "I want to be asleep next to my _husband, _you mean. And what does it matter to you, anyway? I just came down here for a damn piece of pie."

"It _doesn't_ matter. What matters is that I had some servant deliver a little message saying that you wanted a new teacher." Clenching his fists, he began to shout. "You sacked me!"

"And you ruined my pie, so I guess we're both pissed!"

"Why'd you do it, huh? Did you wanna suck up to lover boy?" He leaned closer, and I felt my back touch the fridge door. "Or did the voices in your head tell you to do it?" He sneered at me, bending his head so that we were at eye-level. His voice was softer when he added, "…just like they told you to kill all those girls."

"Fuck you!" I spat, pushing against him. I slammed the refrigerator door shut, my eyes burning holes in his head. "You don't know anything! I told them to get rid of you because of the eye fucking you kept giving me! You may think that every girl in the castle wants you, but you're wrong!"

Even in the darkness, I could see that Griffin's face was red. He took a step forward, trying to intimidate me. "You're wrong, Sam. You told them to get rid of me because of the way I made you feel. You want me. You know you do." He grabbed my waist, his hands digging into my flesh so hard he might've left marks. I shoved him, barely managing to get him off me. A sick feeling was starting to creep into my chest.

"I don't want you," I rebuffed, my throat going dry all of a sudden. He chuckled, pushing closer to me. Every alarm in my head went off. _"Run!"_ they screamed. _"Run while you can!"_

He let out another low chuckle, moving so that he was at my side. Alarmed, I whipped around quickly, forbidding him to be anywhere but facing me. "I'm the only man who's ever tried to dominate you, aren't I?" he laughed devilishly, causing my hackles to rise in response. _Danger. _My body was screaming it at me.

"Yes, I know that I am. You pretend you're such a bad girl, but you're just scared, aren't you? Let me fix that. Be with a real man. You know you want to."

"Freddie's twice the man you are," I growled. "Take a fucking hint. I don't want you, and I_ never will._"

I went to make my escape, shoving past him to get back to the bedroom. He would have hell to pay in the morning, that much I was sure of. He'd be thrown out of the castle. He'd be _put to death. _That little bitch would be sorry he ever–

Griffin caught me by the arm and yanked me back to my spot, my shoulder popping at the sudden jerk. He slammed my back into the door with such force that the refrigerator shook. I cried out in agony, seeing stars. It felt as if someone had stabbed me with searing hot knives. My knees buckled.

"_You should have run," _something whispered.

"You're going to be doing that a lot more tonight," he promised, slamming me into the door again. Blood filled my mouth as my teeth broke the skin of bottom lip, trying to contain a scream. The world was becoming blurry.

"Stop… my back…" I tried to yell, but there was blood pouring down my chin and a hammer in my head, and the best yell I could manage was a faint whine.

"I know about your fucking back." He shoved me into the fridge again, keeping me nailed to it with his lower body. Otherwise, I would've been on my hands and knees. "_Everyone _knows about your back. Why do you think I slapped it so hard today? I'm in charge here. You'll do as I say."

"_No!" _I wanted to shriek, but I had lost my voice on the last.

"Look at me," he growled. "Look at me, you little bitch." He jerked my chin forward, pulling me so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face. His coal eyes were ablaze, as dark as any grave. It was then that I knew I was looking into the eyes of a monster.

As a last effort, I attempted to push him back with my hands. "Still trying?" he asked almost playfully. I opened my mouth to scream, to yell, to spit in his face, but he took away the last of my fight when he grabbed my arm so harshly that it began to bruise and bleed. He put it behind my back with the other. Slowly, it began to turn.

_He's twisting my arm. It's going to snap._

"Are you done resisting, or am I going to have to break your arm?" he asked menacingly, using his lower body to shove me against the fridge again. My legs gave out then, but it didn't matter. The pressure of him kept me pinned. I was doomed.

_All I wanted was a piece of pie._

Griffin grinned at me, licking his lips. He pushed closer to me still, my chest straining against his. His hand came up to trail down my cheek. I recoiled, the back of my neck pressed against the fridge so tightly that a slip of paper couldn't fit in-between. He chuckled, letting his hand slip down to my left breast. With mirth in his eyes, he squeezed it, tugging on my sleeve. It fell to the side, limp with sweat. Hot bile rose in my throat when he stirred against my thigh.

He pushed his hips into mine, growling. "You may not want me, but I want you." His hand slipped under my dress. Panic began to race through me, but I was too helpless to stop it. "And no one is going to stop me from getting what I want." My breath hitched as he leaned forward, his nose touching mine. "Not even you." He began to push my dress up.

"_This is it. He's going to rape me and kill me and I didn't even get a last meal."_

"Damn you to hell," I muttered, the pain overtaking me as he hitched my dress up. I closed my eyes, hoping it would end quickly.

_WHAM!_

My eyes shot open as something heavy rammed into us, as powerful as death itself. Suddenly, I was weightless. There was nothing pinning me against the fridge, no tobacco breath in my face.

I crumbled to the floor, my head cracking against the linoleum. Blood was trickling down my cheek, from the fall or from whatever had hit us. My mind told me to slip into unconsciousness, and my body wished to concede, but some instinct made me push myself up. I finally accomplished the task, looking up just in time.

Freddie had Griffin by the throat.

"_DID YOU HURT HER?!" _he roared, his grip tightening on Griffin's neck. His hands were chains, choking the life out of my former teacher. Through the black I could see his biceps rippling, his jaw so tight that the veins in his neck were evident. Griffin's feet were no less than a foot off the ground, held in the air by Freddie's hands. Griffin's own were trying to pry Freddie's fingers from his neck. _"DID YOU?"_

Freddie hurled Griffin into the cabinets, pots and pans rattling with the impact. Gasping for air, Griffin retaliated, punching the King in the face. I cringed at the sharp sting of skin hitting skin, knowing the pain that accompanied it. Freddie didn't even flinch; instead, he snatched the closest thing he could find and clocked my attacker with it.

"_I will kill you! Do you hear me? I WILL KILL YOU!" _Freddie shouted, grabbed Griffin by his hair and slammed his face on the countertop, knocking out teeth and splattering blood. They were closer to me now, and when his head made contact with the counter again, the horrendous crack echoed in my mind. Paralyzed, I watched in awe, my arms shaking as I wrapped them around myself.

The King yanked him forward, pulling his arm so hard that it popped; Griffin's curses met the sound, shouting an obscene threat. With the arm he could operate, he grabbed the vase from the table behind him and swung. Freddie moved so that it shattered over his arm and chest, instead of where Griffin had been aiming. Barely avoiding having his head bashed in, Freddie shoved Griffin to the floor. He kicked him viciously, Griffin howling all the while.

Breathing heavily, Freddie hovered over him, his eyes dark. Both of his hands were covered in blood, his arms cut from the struggle. Griffin's body shook with soft sobs; judging by the position his arm was in, it was dislocated. There was so much blood….

Freddie turned his eyes on me, and I let out a small gasp. All I could see was blind rage, hatred so deep that it was practically burning me right on the spot. I was rendered speechless. This side of Freddie was one he'd kept hidden from me. It was almost frightening.

He advanced toward me, sinking to his knees. His eyes changed instantly – the rage dissipated; warmth flooded back in. The change happened so abruptly that any sort of word I'd conjured left me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking my face in his hands. I shivered – his touch was comforting, but the blood was still warm.

I tried to force out a response, but I was shaking too hard for words. "God, you're bleeding," he said, more to himself than me. "_So are you,"_ I thought, nausea overcoming me as I saw that his shoulder was soaked in blood, shards of the vase puncturing his skin. _This must be payback for that morning._

Freddie gently brushed my hair back; it was such a tender gesture that I barely felt it at all, still struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. The life-scarring event had happened all in the span of ten minutes – just another to add to my growing collection.

"What did he do?" Speaking was not an option, so I shook my head as a response. He pulled me into his arms, careful to let me rest against the shoulder that wasn't covered in porcelain. He stroked my hair as I quivered against him. Numbness swept through me, replacing the pain. I couldn't feel anything except his hands. That was all I wanted to feel.

Suddenly, a laugh broke through the silence, raspy and cruel. I peeked over Freddie's shoulder, Griffin coming into my line of sight. He grinned at me as he propped himself up with his opposite elbow. Although I couldn't be sure, I thought there was a dent where one of his ribs should've been. Looking at him, I was aware of his suffering; his body was still shaking. Although, if I hadn't been staring dead at him, I would've been deceived – he hid his pain well. More than anything, I wanted to get up and beat him until he begged for mercy. I wanted him to writhe in pain as I drove a knife into his stomach, scream as I held his head in a fiery pit. But I pulled back, hiding in the safety of Freddie's arms. His grip tightened.

"I won't be like this forever," Griffin rasped. "I'll get better. And when I do, I'm coming for you, Sammy. I'm coming for you."

I buried my face into Freddie's neck, trying to banish Griffin from my sight. _Burn. Burn until you can't burn anymore._

Freddie was stiff, and when I reached up to bring his face closer to mine, the light in his eyes had vanished. The darkest hatred plagued them, making me ache with want for the warmth that they had formerly held.

Pulling me to my feet, Freddie leaned down to speak to me. "Go up to our room and wait for me." His low tone vibrated my ear, his eyes becoming increasingly opaque as another laugh pierced the air.

"No," I protested – the first word I'd gotten out since he saved me.

"I'll be up soon. Go and get cleaned up."

He wasn't asking; he was telling. I glanced over at Griffin. "What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I'm going to take care of him," he replied. _Take him to Ms. Briggs. Throw him in the dungeon. _He kissed my forehead, although there wasn't a hint of affection in his eyes. "Go," he commanded. Practically convulsing, I made my way to the door, taking slow, deliberate steps. If I went too fast, I would collapse.

I paused at the doorway, glancing over my shoulder. Griffin was still snickering. Freddie had picked up a wooden chair, and I felt my skin prickle when I imagined what he intended to do with it. His eyes met mine during my last moments in that kitchen.

"Go." I swallowed, ducking out of the doorway. Feeling as though my blood had frozen, I followed the lit candles, touching the furniture as I passed. The last thing I heard was the sound of the chair leg snapping.

The laughter stopped.

* * *

**CEREMONIALS**

After much self-motivation, I was finally able to get to our bedroom. I was in a fog, absolutely exhausted from the horrific ordeal. The covers on Freddie's side of the bed were thrown back, as if he'd sprung from the bed in a panic. Half an hour ago I had risen from that bed to get a midnight snack. Now the idea of eating was laughable.

Slowly, I made my way to the bathroom. I needed a shower and a change of clothes. The clock on the wall told me it was 3 AM, an ungodly hour to be up at.

Still shaking, I removed the dress. Griffin had ripped the fabric to shreds, and the back was horribly bloodstained. My dressings were soaked with blood as well; I carefully peeled them off, wincing at the sting as my wounds met the air. The bleeding had ameliorated, but my back still throbbed, and I couldn't fathom how it would feel if I bumped into something.

I discarded the stained clothing and started the shower. I surveyed my arms, inspecting the damage – along with my battle scars, a blue handprint was beginning to form. I knew I'd need to take a look at my back, but that would involve a mirror, and god knows what would be behind me if I dared a glimpse.

Sighing, I stepped into the shower. Although the servants usually bathed me, I occasionally did it myself. Honestly, I preferred the shower; the pressure of the water felt better than the scrubs of the dimwitted child on Matilda's team, and there were no eyes to pity me as they overlooked my scars.

Blood mixed with water, and I watched as it disappeared down the drain. I let it flow through my hair, squeezing a gob of strawberry shampoo into my curls to overpower the stench. The red bubbles formed at my feet appeared demonic; I relaxed when they too slipped down the drain.

"_I'm coming for you, Sammy."_

The memories slapped me in the face, pushing me against the wall of the shower just as Griffin had pushed me against the fridge. Violent sobs tore through me as the water rinsed the fresh blood from my back, my makeup smeared on my cheeks. God, why did these things keep happening? It was like life was throwing everything it could at me, hell-bent on driving me insane.

"Freddie!" I cried, like a child would for its mother. "Carly!" Neither of them could hear me, but still I cried. I sobbed and shook until the water ran cold, and even then it took me a little while to finally gain the power to reach up and turn the faucet off.

Rising to my feet, I pulled the door of the shower to the side. The chilled air rushed to greet me, and I realized how refreshing it was. I toweled myself off the best I could and began to search for something to stop the bleeding on my back. Once I found what I needed, I swathed my back in bandages; hopefully it would suffice until daylight.

Regrettably enough, the castle staff provided me with only short, revealing gowns; they were meant to be an encouragement, but I highly doubted miles of battered skin was a turn-on for Freddie. He probably fantasized of someone with soft, untouched skin; someone innocent, pretty, _sane. _The things he wanted were the things I couldn't give to him.

_Wendy could give them to him._

"Never," I said aloud, shaking the thought from my head. I was done with that for tonight.

Dressed in my flimsy excuse for a nightgown, I crawled into bed. The small lamp on Freddie's nightstand illuminated the room, casting a faint shadow over the right wall. I cradled his pillow against my head, lying on my side. His scent washed over me, bringing a sense of peace. Still, I was a restless wreck. Waiting was like hunting – something could come, or something could not. Freddie had promised he'd be with me soon, but that was almost an hour ago. As the hands of the clock chased each other, I became increasingly concerned. Did I need to go find him? What was taking so long? Was he hurt?

_If Freddie says he will come, he will come, _I told myself, but it didn't stop me from worrying.

Finally, after what seemed like two eternities, the door opened. I rose so quickly that my vision blurred. Clutching his pillow to my chest, I called out. "Freddie?"

There he stood, covered in blood from head to toe. It was spattered all over his clothes, patches of his shirt completely drenched. His face hadn't been spared; neither had his hair – it was a matted mess, clumped and sticky with blood. He appeared as though he'd just crawled off a battle field – or out of a grave.

Against my will, I began to quiver again. _Calm down Sam; it's just blood. You can handle this._ Putting his pillow aside, I stood up. "Are you hurt?" He didn't respond. "Freddie, what did you do?"

He swallowed hard. There was a cut underneath his right eye, and it was beginning to bruise. "I took care of it," he replied darkly. The man who had returned to me was not Freddie, but his rough exterior. There was nothing but night sky in his eyes, destitute of all emotion.

Noticing how I was looking at him, he softened his tone. "I'm going to clean up."

"I'll help."

Freddie sighed. "Sam–"

"Freddie," I admonished, crossing my arms. He would not be arguing with me on this. Apparently he knew that too, because he just huffed and followed me to the bathroom, leaving bloody footprints on the hardwood as he did.

"Wash your hands, and take off your shirt," I instructed, rummaging through cabinets for tweezers and antibacterial soap. Meanwhile, Freddie had started the water, scrubbing his hands and face. After finding all my supplies, I arranged them neatly on the marble countertop. Freddie moved to dry his hands while I avoided looking in the mirror above me.

"Hey, I – dude!" I exclaimed, almost bumping into him. He'd already disinvested himself of the soiled shirt and was waiting for my inspection.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Overly aware of his nearness, I swallowed the warm lump that had risen in my throat. His chest was exposed to me, the blood already drying on his tanned skin. It was smooth, and once it was clean, it would be almost flawless. I reflected on how marred mine had become and the amount that was visible to him, hating everything for it.

I rolled my eyes, feigning annoyance. "Get on the counter so we can get the damned shards out of your arm," I demanded. Obliging, he hoisted himself on the marble, his focus trained on me.

After I finished washing the blood away, I began to pick the porcelain out of his arm. I bit my lip as I worked a piece from his skin. "How'd you find me?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I woke up and you weren't there, so I looked for you." I nodded, not wanting any further explanation. Freddie shifted uncomfortably, grunting when I removed a larger fragment. "Man up," I chided, managing a small laugh when he glared at me.

Suddenly, he reached up and wiped my lip with his thumb, paralyzing me. "You're bleeding." Raising my hand to my lips, I saw that he was right. I shrugged it off, bending over to dispose the piece of vase.

Freddie grabbed my shoulders, keeping me where I was. His eyes were roaming over the exposed skin on my upper back. I panicked, wondering if he could see through the bandages.

"Mind letting me go?" I questioned, looking over my shoulder at him. No response. "Freddie." I squirmed in his grasp, trying to break myself free.

He released me abruptly, beginning to stand up. "Hey! I'm not done yet!" I protested, shoving him back down.

"Forget about it Sam, the nurse can take care of it tomorrow." He pushed me aside, rising to his feet.

"Sit back down!" I yelled, but he was already out of the bathroom, heading towards the door. "Freddie!" I followed after him. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. "What is wrong with you?"

Freddie grabbed my cheeks, yanking me towards him so harshly that the gash in my lip split open again when we made contact. My body went rigid, my fists clenching when I realized that he was kissing me. One of his hands slid down my side, stopping at my thigh. Slowly, he took my leg and pulled it around his waist. His other hand was pushed against the back of my head, preventing me from breaking away. I wrapped my other leg around him as I was lifted into the air, moaning as his hand roamed my skin, his fingers tracing the scars.

His cinnamon taste invaded my mouth and my lungs, sucking out all the oxygen. I whimpered as his tongue forced its way past my lips, exploring my mouth without permission, controlling and lustful. His fingers were tangled in my hair, pulling at the locks as his other hand squeezed my bare flesh. I trembled, thrilled and frightened by his possessiveness. In that moment, I was completely at his mercy. And I kind of liked it.

My hands crept around his neck as I responded to his kisses, lips dripping with passion. Groaning, he pressed closer to me, his kisses becoming more desperate with every passing second. He nipped at my swollen lip, sending a wave of heat rolling through my body, weighing heavily on my chest and eyelids.

A tiny explosion erupted inside of my chest, and I tried to pull back, alarmed. He disagreed with me, keeping my head steady with his palm. Panicking from the lack of oxygen, I dug my fingernails into his back, hoping the pain would disengage him. He hissed against my lips, pushing back against me. Though, Freddie must have sensed my distress, because he released me for a moment. I gasped, sucking in the air he had deprived me of. He panted against my face, his heart thudding soundly in his chest. He sat down on the bed, taking me with him. I opened my mouth to take in more air, but he grabbed my head and pulled me back to him, his tongue working its way back into my mouth. This time I fought back, battling him for dominance. His hand dropped to grip at the underside of my thigh, but I didn't break away. I could feel his chest rumble as he groaned, the heat between us growing.

The groan woke something in me – common sense, logic, call it what you want; but it made me understand that this – us heatedly making out after a traumatizing experience – made absolutely no sense. Breathing heavily, I pushed against him, breaking the deep kiss. This time he let me, his hands moving from my ass to my waist, his arms providing me with a safe, warm feeling. Lightheaded and disoriented, I let my forehead rest against his. Freddie gazed into my eyes, trying to regain his breath.

"I'm sorry," he panted, choking on his own words. His cheeks were red, as were his lips. He was shaking from the intensity of the kiss; looking down, I saw that I was as well. "I-I don't… I just…."

"You're just coping," I reasoned. "We're coping."

He blinked boyishly, disagreement in his tone when he said, "Yeah. Coping."

Staring into his brown eyes, I let my hand rest on his cheek. His calloused hand tentatively rubbed my thigh. Slowly, I let my eyes close, moving closer to kiss him. He leaned into it, hugging me to his chest. This kiss was so much softer, so much sweeter, and it left me feeling warm instead of hot. It wasn't lust and it wasn't coping, and I remembered the last time I'd felt that way.

I leaned back, resting my hand on his shoulder. "Can we sleep now?" he asked softly, his hand in my hair.

"You still have vase shards in your arm," I reminded, my words slurring. Exhaustion surrounded me like a thick fog, weighing down my limbs.

"Fuck it," Freddie said, pulling me down beside him. "You got most of it anyway." I was so tired that I didn't even tease him for cussing. He turned off the lamp and pulled the blankets over us. I sighed with content. Safe. I was finally safe.

"What did you do with Griffin?" I asked, rolling over. Sleep was calling; I trudged toward it, knowing that if I did not go, it would come for me on its own.

"I made it so that he can't hurt you." He laid his head above mine, his breath stirring my hair as he added, "He can't take you away now."

Sleep came before I could respond.

* * *

_A friend helps._

_A temptress gleams._

_The royals dance._

_Could it all be a dream?_

_Review and see the unveiling _

_of our latest ceremony._

_:^) Ashlee Seddie_


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